We Don't Die
by cakebythepound
Summary: [Sequel to Don't Let Me Down] After a bumpy road to a relationship, Rick and Michonne are stronger than ever. As they find themselves in Washington, facing a world of new problems, they learn that, together, they're a force to be reckoned with. (Richonne. Timeframe: Alexandria/comic book stuff, remixed. Warnings: Adult Language, Adult Situations, Violence, probably.)
1. This Is The Beginning

**A/N:** All right, y'all. Here we go! Tbh, I'm a little bit terrified to start this, because this will be the longest story I ever attempt to write, and there are like twenty characters, and I'm just... not ready. I mean, I am, but I'm not. I don't know. I really hope you guys like it, though! We're gonna be doing this for a while, so… I hope I don't let you down! (Pun intended, haha.) (Also, forgive me for using Bey yet again, but I've been planning to use this song for Richonne for actual months now. I swear I listen to other artists too, lol.) -Ash

* * *

 **1 – This Is The Beginning**

Tears welled in Michonne's tired eyes as she stood in front of her new house. She marveled up at the beautiful thing, still in a bit of shock that it was real. Alexandria was real, and just what Noah said it would be – a community. It was a neighborhood with walls, and houses, and families. They were welcomed by the sound of children playing in the streets, running through yards. They had yards. And mailboxes and driveways. They had a front door, and Michonne had the keys to it in her pocket. It was all so unbelievable, and yet, it was real. She had a home.

 _If I ain't got nothing, I got you_

She continued inside, happy to find that the fairly immoderate home was just as beautiful on the inside as its exterior. Hardwood floors and marble countertops, crown moldings and a fresh, neat paint job. More lighting than they could ever possibly need, especially given how much sunlight streamed in through the many windows. She couldn't help but smile. There was so much space. Their entire group could probably fit on the floor of her living room if they rearranged the furniture. To think that all of it would belong to just her, Rick, and the kids was unfathomable.

 _If I ain't got something, I don't give a damn  
_ ' _Cause I got it with you_

"Rick?" she called out to the silent home. It took her a moment, but she finally realized she had yet to see or hear him inside.

No answer.

"Babe?" She immediately and instinctively drew her sword from its scabbard and moved towards the staircase, listening out for footsteps – his or otherwise. Silence.

She inched up the stairs carefully, slowly, so as not to attract any further attention to her whereabouts, just in case this was some sort of sneak attack. She couldn't imagine that it was, as the Safe Zone was where Noah's family lived, and she had no reason not to trust him. But she also knew that all it took was a second of your guard being down for things to go awry. In fact, she had learned that in spades in the past month.

But once she made it to the top of the steps, she understood why Rick hadn't heard her. The shower was running. With a shaky sigh of relief, she re-sheathed her katana and headed toward the sound.

Their new bedroom was almost shockingly large. A king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, but another could've easily fit on either side of it, with room to spare. His and hers dressers were at the front of the room, and a large flatscreen TV hung just above them. She lived a pretty affluent existence in her old life, but somehow, Alexandria was managing to exceed it. "This is ridiculous," she laughed to herself.

Michonne continued into the equally extravagant bathroom, smiling at the sight of Rick's naked silhouette, blurred by the steam of the walk-in shower. And as much as she enjoyed the view of her man standing there all wet and oblivious, the smile was in realization that they had hot water.

"You scared the shit outta me, you know," she told him, announcing her presence in the room.

He didn't turn, but innately smiled at the sound of her voice. "How'd I do that?"

"When I called you, you didn't answer. I was certain I was gonna find you dead in the bathtub."

"All right, Psycho," he chuckled. "What happened to, 'We don't die'?"

"I thought you reneged on me," she shrugged playfully. She found herself studying the heat radiating from the shower stall, jealous that he had gotten first dibs on it. "Is that water as hot as it looks?"

"Why don't you get in here and find out?" he shot back.

She grinned in surprise at his flirtatious response, having gotten used to the all-business persona he'd adopted on the road to Washington. They both had, really, as there was no time for a lot of pleasantries. Keeping seventeen people alive was their mission, and it had not been an easy one. They'd shared a few kisses here and there, but even when she was in the mood to sneak away with him, she wasn't sure how to say it. Perhaps because they were still trying to rebuild from their breakdown just before leaving Atlanta. So as much as she understood why he hadn't made any advances towards her, she was definitely relieved to find that that wasn't going to be his permanent state.

 _I don't know much about algebra  
_ _But I know one plus one equals two_

She quickly began to pull off her clothes, knowing they didn't have a ton of time before the others completed their interviews with Deanna. Rick turned to watch her strip, but couldn't help but notice her katana laying just behind her on the bathroom counter, making him laugh.

"I think we're safe in here without your sword, Michonne."

She smirked as well as she shimmied out of her pants. "I brought that for you," she joked. "I'm cutting that beard off of you if it's the last thing I do."

"That's very funny."

"I'm serious, Grimes. No more excuses. Either you cut it off, or I do."

"Just hurry up and get in here." He pulled back the shower door to welcome her in, allowing the two of them to finally get an unobstructed view of the other. She really did hate that beard, but it was almost astonishing how different he looked after just a few minutes with some soap. She was certain he had gotten a shade lighter since she'd last seen him.

"Look at you," she grinned.

Instead, he quirked an eyebrow at her, taking in the sight of her magnificent naked body. "Look at you."

She shook her head and stepped inside with him, immediately soothed by the warm water hitting her face. She took the spot directly beneath the shower head, watching as the dirt on her skin melted off of her and down the drain. Rick stood behind her, enjoying her enjoying another triumph in their day full of little miracles. He wanted this for her and the kids, most of all, and it was a beautiful thing to watch this dream actually come to fruition.

 _And it's me and you  
_ _That's all we'll have when the world is through_

He ran his hands along her shoulders and swept her hair from her neck so that the water could reach it, and so that his lips could as well. As he kissed her skin, his hands continued slowly down her sides and then back up her torso, cupping her breasts briefly, having missed the way they felt in his hands. He roamed her entire upper body, her slick flesh feeling like satin beneath his fingers.

Michonne smiled down at his touch, realizing only then how much she had missed it. What a toll it had taken on her to not have that intimacy she had gotten so used to. She was ready for it. And as they moved from underneath the water stream, she thought for sure his hands were headed southward, but instead, he brought them back up to her hair.

Before she knew it, he was massaging shampoo into her scalp. The feeling was almost orgasmic. Having someone take care of her in such a small, significant way was better than anything she could have imagined. And not just someone, but Rick. She closed her eyes and let him take over, his fingers deftly working the lather through to the end of her locs and then repeating the action through each section of her hair. She could feel the suds dripping down her chest, and behind her, his erection rubbing against her, but he didn't seem to be paying it any mind. His only focus was his woman.

' _Cause baby, we ain't got nothing without love  
_ _Darling, you've got enough for the both of us_

"Keep your eyes closed," he whispered, the two of them moving back beneath the water. He began to rinse the soap from her hair, gently squeezing her dreads like a sponge until all of the shampoo was gone. He wiped the bubbles from her face, caressing her cheek as he did. Kissing her neck once more, then nibbling at her ear.

He grabbed the shower gel from the ledge to their right, pouring a generous amount into his hands, working up a lather, just as he had with the shampoo. He then ran his soapy hands along every inch of Michonne's body – across her upper back and shoulders, over her breasts, her abdomen, then around to her lower back as the water beat down over the two of them. He added more soap as he moved across her backside, fondling her slippery cheeks in the process. The water rinsed as he washed. Rick then used his long, wet fingers to roam her warm, wet center, taking her by surprise when he penetrated her with his index and middle digits.

He continued to kiss her collarbone as he explored her depths, then pulled up to speak softly into her ear, "Welcome home."

 _So come on baby, make love to me  
_ _When my days look low  
_ _Pull me in close and don't let me go  
_ _Make love to me_

She grinned warmly at just the thought, and covered his hand with her own to put his finger work on pause. She wanted more. She wanted everything. She opened her eyes to turn and face him, amused by the way his long curls were melted against his face. She ran her fingers through his beard, for what she secretly hoped to be the last time, and then moved in to kiss him. His lips immediately devoured her, and his tongue pushed into her mouth to tangle with hers. The way she kissed him back reminded him of their first kiss, minus the awkwardness. But there was an urgency to it, the way she sucked at him. She pressed her body into his, barely leaving enough space for the water to fall between them. She pulled his head closer to her, deepening their contact. Indeed, he was her home, and she had every intention of getting a warm welcome.

 _So when the world's at war  
_ _Let our love heal us all  
_ _Right now baby, make love to me_

* * *

"All right," Michonne announced as she reentered the master bathroom with an armful of shirts. "I guess we can use these while-." She stopped mid-sentence when she caught a glimpse of her boyfriend in the mirror, his face clean-shaven and completely free of beard. She almost didn't recognize him with such a baby face. "Shit," she remarked, beaming at him.

He turned to face her, somewhat shyly, feeling foreign to even himself after nearly two years of having facial hair. As if having a house and hot water wasn't odd enough, he now looked like a completely different person, too. "You're the only person in the world I would do this for," he said seriously, looking back at himself.

"You should've wanted it for yourself," she chuckled, taking note of the mess of hair in their sink. "Moses wasn't your best look, you know."

"And this is?"

She gazed at him for a few more beats, taking in the full sight of him now. He was standing there shirtless, in just his Levis, looking pretty damn scrumptious, if she did say so herself. "With a bit of a haircut… I think it just might be."

"It's nice to know that you've always hated how I look," he joked, turning back to the mirror once more.

"Shut up." She dropped the pile of shirts to the ledge of their bathtub and loosened the towel she still had wrapped around her body. "It's a good thing I didn't put any clothes on yet..."

"Why is that?"

"I think we have time for another quick round."

His eyebrows raised in surprise that she wanted to fuck again. They had _just_ gotten done. "I dunno, I'm startin' to feel a little objectified here."

She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his slim waist, taking in his clean, almondy scent. "As well you should."

There was a knock at the door downstairs that instantly brought them both out of their playful moods. They knew their own family members weren't likely to actually knock, so they were immediately on edge, separating to look around cautiously. "Stay here," Rick directed, not wanting anyone to see her wearing nothing but a towel. He grabbed her katana and carefully skulked down the steps towards the front door, only to see a blonde woman standing there, holding a laundry basket. He instantly felt ridiculous about how guarded he and Michonne had become in just a matter of seconds. He dropped the sword to the cubbyhole in the foyer and pulled the door open.

"Hey," the woman greeted him warmly. "I work in the pantry; Deanna asked me to bring this over for you and your friends."

He graciously accepted the basket to examine it, finding it full of vaguely useful household staples, like paper towels and coffee. "Thank you," he nodded, feeling suddenly very exposed. "We were just cleanin' up..."

"I can see that," she grinned, pointing to her face. "You still have some shaving cream on your chin."

He nodded, looking back at her expectantly, unsure of what to say. He was unused to having someone knock on his door. Or to having a door, for that matter.

"I'm Jessie," she added. She instantly reminded him of Lori, he noticed. The way she dressed, the way she didn't stop smiling. She seemed nice.

"Rick," he decided to tell her.

"You know," she went on, unable to look past his obviously overgrown hair, "I used to be a stylist. And… twelve other things. I could give you a cut if you want."

Rick stared at her, confused by her extreme congeniality. That didn't make sense in the old world, much less the new one. "You don't even know me."

She smiled again, understanding that he was offering her a warning. "I can take care of myself."

He squinted at her briefly, then looked back into his new home, where he knew Michonne was upstairs waiting for him. "I umm… I think my wife's got this handled."

"Oh." She shook her head in embarrassment, grinning back at him awkwardly. "Right. Of course she would. I'm so sorry."

He nodded understandingly. "Thank you for this, though."

"Of course." She was already leaving the porch as she told him, "I'll see you around."

With a sigh, Rick turned to shut the door with his back, then dropped their housewarming gift to the kitchen counter before heading back upstairs to find Michonne. She was back in their bedroom now, having exchanged her towel for a burgundy tank top and a pair of panties. She was kneeled on the floor in front of one of their dressers. "So I take it we're not having sex again?"

"You took too long," she shrugged, continuing to search through their new drawers.

"It was two minutes."

"Who was at the door?"

"Some lady with a basket full of stuff," he answered as he stooped down to join her. "Seemed nice."

She glanced at him briefly, but continued to pull out items of clothing she figured someone in the group could use. "Stuff like what?" she wondered, distractedly.

"Kitchen stuff. Dishwashing liquid, paper towels, some kind of strainer thing."

"Well that sound-."

"I might've told her you were my wife," he cut her off to announce. It had come out of his mouth so easily, he almost thought nothing of it. For all intents and purposes, she essentially was his spouse; there was no reason for him to be self-conscious about saying it. But that didn't stop him from looking over to her hesitantly, as he was totally unsure of what her reaction would be.

Michonne found herself instantly smiling at not only the idea that he'd referred to her as his wife, but also the adorable look on his face as he revealed that fact to her. "I gotta say, I kinda like the sound of that."

"Do you really?"

"I do." It wasn't so long ago that he practically went screaming for the hills when she asked for a simple definition of what they were doing. Now, here he was putting a very definitive stamp on their relationship. She gently touched his face, wiping the excess shaving cream from his chin. "So long as you like the sound of being my husband."

He smiled back at her, taking her hand from his face and intertwining their fingers. "I do."

 _I don't know much about guns, but I've been shot by you  
_ _And I don't know when I'm gon' die  
_ _But I hope that I'm gon' die by you  
_ _And I don't know much about fighting  
_ _But I know I will fight for you  
_ _Just when I ball up my fists I realize that I'm laying right next to you_

* * *

Lyrics: "1+1" - Beyonce (4)


	2. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

**A/N:** Well! Thank you all so much for your feedback on the first chapter. Y'all instantly put me at ease, and I'm just really excited to dive into this now. (severelybabykryptonite, you made me smile so hard that I almost cried, haha.) I think the next few chapters are gonna be fairly long, so I hope you're settled in for some readin'. I can't wait to hear what you think! –Ash

* * *

 **2 – Guess Who's Coming To Dinner**

It was a beautiful Saturday evening as Rick and Michonne exhaustedly retired to their back porch for some alone time. They had been at Alexandria for almost two days, their home filled to the brim with family until they felt comfortable enough to separate into their own houses; so it was nice to get an opportunity to be alone for a few minutes. The two of them took to the wicker loveseat at the end of their deck, which offered a lovely view of the pond in the middle of the neighborhood.

"Now there's somethin' you don't see every day," Rick remarked, referring to the elaborate landscape of their backyard. Nothing like the view of walkers they had at the prison.

Michonne smiled, clutching Rick's arm as she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Let's hope it becomes something we see everyday."

"It was so weird to wake up this morning and not have to actively worry about keeping someone alive."

"Not having to get up and stick a blade through some corpse's skull."

"Waking up to the smell of coffee instead of death…"

The two of them chuckled quietly to themselves, at the ridiculous wonder of their new lives. They had mainly been paying attention to one another, so they didn't notice that two of their fellow community members were walking by. Rick immediately recognized Jessie from the day before, but she had a tall blond man with her that he had yet to meet.

"Howdy, neighbors," the guy called out to them cheerfully. Without invitation, he walked up the steps to their deck to meet them, Jessie hesitantly following behind. "I'm Pete. Pete Anderson." He offered his hand to Rick but kept his eyes on Michonne. "Lovely to meet you."

"Rick Grimes," he returned the handshake cautiously. He immediately detected something off about this guy, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what. "This is my wife, Michonne," he went on to introduce her.

"My goodness," he grinned, nearly mesmerized by just the sight of her as he took her hand as well. "You are one lucky fellow, Rick Grimes."

Michonne and Rick glanced at one another uneasily, until Pete finally released her hand and stopped staring long enough to introduce his own spouse. "This is my wife, Jessie," he nodded, moving out of the way so that she could greet them.

"We met yesterday," Rick nodded. "She's the one that brought over the welcome basket," he informed Michonne.

"Ah," she nodded back, sitting up to shake Jessie's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You as well," she smiled nervously. "I'm so sorry to keep bothering you."

"It's no bother at all," Michonne assured her. "We should be getting to know everyone, after all."

"Deanna said to give you guys your space, though. Let you get settled before we start inundating you with the introductions."

"It's fine," Rick smiled politely at them both. "We're fine."

"Deanna's an idiot," Pete chuckled derisively. "In fact, you two oughta come over for dinner tomorrow night. I won't take no for an answer."

"Pete…" Jessie tried to stop him.

"Oh, what. Is that against the rules?"

"I'm sure they'd much rather spend the rest of their weekend with their family."

"Nonsense," he waved her off dismissively. "They're obviously sitting out there to get away from them. You two got any kids?" he directed back to Rick and Michonne.

"A fifteen-year-old and a one-year-old," Rick answered cautiously.

"Carl and Judith," Jessie knew. "Right?"

"Right..."

"Our son, Ron, he's about Carl's age," she revealed. "Keeps asking when he can come over and introduce himself."

"He's welcome anytime," Michonne grinned back.

"Bring him over for dinner," Pete offered. "The baby too. Jess loves babies."

"I do," she smiled. "We'd love to have you if you'd like to come."

Michonne could tell by Rick's body language that he wasn't extremely interested in a dinner date, but she also knew his sense of propriety wasn't so great after so much time on the road. He was never great at playing well with others, but that was especially true after Joe, Terminus, and Grady. They would have to relearn how to be nice. "We'd be glad to join you guys for dinner," she decided for them both.

Pete continued to stare her down as he smiled, pleased. "Excellent. We'll have some drinks, get to know each other…"

Jessie chuckled at her husband's apparent enthusiasm. She hadn't seen him this excited about anything in years. "How's seven?" she suggested.

"We'll be there," Michonne promised, resting her hand in Rick's lap.

"We'll see you then."

"Thank you," Rick added, though more thankful than anything that they were turning to leave.

"You two have a good night," Pete finished, turning back to glance at Michonne one last time.

The two of them feigned polite smiles as they watched their neighbors disappear to their own home, two spots to their right. Rick scoffed at the entire situation as he affectionately ran his thumb over Michonne's hand. "Someone sure does like you."

"Oh, please," she chuckled, leaning back against him once more.

"So you didn't notice that guy barely took his eyes off of you?"

"I did. But I've also noticed Jessie and every other woman here making googly eyes at you. So long as nobody crosses any lines…"

"I can't believe you agreed to dinner with them," he yawned. "Tomorrow's gonna be our first night with just the four of us in the house."

"Might as well get it over with," she shrugged. "And I really want Carl to make friends with kids his own age."

Rick nodded, as that was the only reason he wasn't completely opposed to the idea himself. "He told me today, he didn't want us to get so adjusted to this place that we get weak. I wanted to tell him that we won't, but… honestly, it's somethin' I worry about myself."

"We won't," she promised, softly rubbing his thigh. "I mean, how many people did we kill at Grady?"

"I lost count," he sighed, hating to think of the massacre they'd incited there. "Dozens."

"Exactly. Weakness isn't in us anymore, babe. Deanna made us the constables of this place for a reason."

"I'm not so sure she knows what that reason is," he returned, half-joking.

"It just means that… if these people are weak? If they can't make it? Then it's our job to teach them how."

Rick nodded at her perpetual wisdom, understanding that she was right. In just a few weeks on the road, they had already shown Noah a lot about what it took to be a true survivor. They could do the same with the other Alexandrians, if they had to. "Maybe so…"

"But," she appended, glad that he agreed, "we do have to do something about this 'no weapons inside the walls' bullshit."

"' _I will not have this turn into a police state_ ,'" Rick retorted haughtily, mocking both Deanna's words and her tone. "Ridiculous."

She giggled in amusement at his imitation of their new leader. "She's clueless."

"If push comes to shove, we oughta just steal our weapons back."

"Okay, Rambo. Let's give it a week before we start planning our stealth attack on this place."

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "It should take that long for everything to go to shit."

"You're so optimistic."

"I'm realistic," he countered, planting a kiss on her temple. "I just don't want any surprises by the time Sasha's ready to deliver."

"That's nearly six months away, Rick."

"But it'll be here before we know it. And with any luck, we won't be too far behind."

"Oh," she smirked, pretending to be surprised by his aspiration. "Well in the interest of full disclosure, I haven't had a pill since we left the prison, so it's quite possible we're already not so far behind."

He chuckled heartily at her confession. "Well thanks for telling me."

"I figured you should know," she shrugged, smiling. "Although… if we're really serious about it, we should probably go upstairs and get to work."

He glanced down at her, surprised. "Really? With fourteen other people in our house?"

"Captive audience," she snorted, giggling.

"You're awful," he grinned, his arm encircling her waist. "But I can be quiet if you can…"

After months of nearly silent sex in the cellblocks back at the prison, she figured she could keep it down for one more night. "Well then let's go, Grimes."

* * *

"Thank you so much for watching her," Michonne said, strolling into her living room, where Beth and Judith were sitting on the couch, playing with an iPad. "They said to bring her, but I just thought, why do that to her just because we have to go?" she chuckled.

"You know it's no problem," Beth grinned, looking up at her. "You look awesome, by the way."

"Oh, well thank you," she smiled proudly. She wore a simple royal blue sundress she found in her closet, along with a pair of gold sandals that didn't really fit, but she'd somehow made work. She complemented the look with golden eyeshadow and red lipstick to set off her immaculate smile. "It's nice to look nice for a change."

"I suppose it is. Maggie and Glenn went over to Deanna's for dinner tonight, they got all gussied up, too."

"It's been so long since we've had closets, I almost didn't know what to do with myself."

"You mind if I search through yours while you're gone?" Beth asked hopefully. "We're goin' to Aaron and Eric's tomorrow, I'd like to put on somethin' cute too."

"Knock yourself out," Michonne waved encouragingly. She bent down to give Judith a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I'll see you later, Cutie."

"Have fun," she used Judith's little hand to wave back at her mother.

"We're two doors to the left if you need anything at all," Michonne finished. "Thank you again."

"No problem."

With that, Michonne headed out the door, where Carl and Rick were patiently waiting for the woman of the house to appear. They wore nearly identical outfits of white button-downs and jeans, Carl looking like Rick's mini-me. They both stood at the sight of Michonne, looking like a perfect summer evening.

"Well don't you two look nice," she beamed at both her boys. Carl's hair was still unruly, but he refused to cut it, and she wasn't going to fight him on it. "You look like Alexandrians already."

"You're one to talk," Carl joked, moving towards the steps. "You look like you spent the day shopping at Macy's."

"You do look amazing," Rick agreed, standing to plant a kiss to her cheek. She smelled like jasmine, and he didn't want to pull away. He didn't want to go anywhere at all, really. "We keep trying tonight," he reminded her in the softest of whispers, referring to their baby-making quest.

She tried to suppress a smile as she nodded, and the three of them continued down their porch, onto the sidewalk towards the Anderson's. Just ahead of them, they spotted Sasha and Daryl walking arm in arm, likely headed to dinner too, considering the black dress Sasha was sporting.

"Where are you two off to?" Rick called after them, amused to see them be openly affectionate toward each other. It was such a rarity.

The two of them turned back to the three of them, surprised to see the Grimes family all dressed up with somewhere to go. "Hopefully not the same place y'all are," Daryl joked.

"Aaron and Eric invited us to dinner," Sasha smiled. "Said they had spaghetti, which you can imagine I was all in for."

Rick and Michonne looked at each other, wondering if this was some weird setup. Spaghetti Sunday, perhaps, with some morbid twist. Maybe they were all going to end up with their throats slit. "Well, let's hope spaghetti isn't a euphemism for something," Michonne chuckled wryly. "Because we're headed to Pete and Jessie's for the same thing."

"Shit. We're all gonna die tonight," Sasha shook her head. "Shoulda known this was too good to be true."

"It was nice knowing you, though," Michonne shrugged. "Maybe we'll meet in the afterlife."

"Oh, we'll definitely see y'all in hell," Daryl submitted with a smirk. "You get there first, save us a seat."

"Very funny," Rick shook his head, next to Carl, who was just laughing at the ordeal. "I know we're all joking, but you do need to keep an eye out for anything weird. Anything off."

"We will," Sasha nodded. "Or at least I will, since I can't drink."

Michonne laughed in response to their entire conversation. "You guys try to have fun."

"Y'all too," Daryl finished, the two of them continuing up the street.

* * *

Soon thereafter, Sasha and Daryl were sitting at Aaron and Eric's dining room table - the two recruiters for Alexandria - enjoying their own spaghetti dinner and a surprisingly easy conversation. They were two nice, funny guys, that seemed mostly interested in where Sasha and Daryl had come from, and their lives back in Georgia. In turn, they learned a lot about how Alexandria came about, and what it took to sustain such a nice community at the end of the world.

"I just wanna thank you guys for agreeing to have dinner with us," Aaron declared at the first opportunity he got. "We know you must have been wondering why we invited you."

"Well Maggie said that you invited her over for tomorrow, so we kinda figured it was part of the welcome wagon," Sasha shrugged.

"I suppose it is," he nodded back, taking a sip of his wine. "Since Noah brought you in, we didn't get the opportunity to scope you out like most of our new members, so we would like to spend some time with everyone..."

Daryl swallowed a forkful of spaghetti before looking back and forth between the hosts. He could feel something else wasn't being said. "But what?"

"But," Eric cut in, "we specifically wanted to meet with you first."

Sasha looked over to Daryl with a nervous smile, then back at Aaron and Eric. "Why is that?"

"Well I've watched all of your group's interviews," Aaron said. "And after seeing yours, specifically, Daryl, I asked Deanna to hold off on giving you a job."

Daryl frowned back at him, obviously wondering why he would've done that. He'd been sitting around all weekend, waiting to find out how he could be useful to Alexandria, figuring maybe he couldn't be. He dropped his fork and sat up a little straighter. "Why's that?"

"I... wanted to see if you were willing to be a recruiter. With me."

Sasha frowned as well. "I thought that was your job," she pointed to Eric.

"It is," he nodded. "But I only go because I don't want him to be alone," he admitted. "I'm not good at it. Nearly killed myself on the last mission trying to get away from a walker," he chuckled.

The three of them laughed in response as Aaron went on. "In your interview, you said you were sick of running from bad people. You talked about all the different groups you've met that have tried to kill you. And how you felt like you could trust Noah immediately, which is why you came here. I just got the feeling that you know the difference between a good person and a bad person. And I desperately need that out there."

Daryl and Sasha looked at each other knowingly once again, both of them understanding that Daryl was probably the best person for the job - he could read people like no other. But the point of them coming to Washington was so that they could have stability for their baby. So that they wouldn't have to be on the road. Daryl becoming a recruiter defeated that entire purpose. "How often do you go out?" Sasha wondered. "And for how long?"

"It varies," he nodded back. "Every month, sometimes for a week, sometimes for three. It depends on what I find, the weather, the gas..."

"And how long do you stay at home?" Daryl interjected.

"We've always tried to make sure that we stay as long as we're gone," Eric explained. "So if we're away for two weeks, we come home for two weeks."

"That's a long time to be away from home," Daryl nodded. He remembered when Michonne was out looking for The Governor, the times she was gone felt like an eternity sometimes. He took a sip from his wine, feeling uneasy about the fact that he didn't know the answer to this. So he looked to Sasha.

"Don't look at me," she chuckled, also feeling unsettled. "This is your call."

"It's not an easy decision, I know," Aaron said, smiling at them comfortingly. "Especially given your... situation. That's why we wanted to ask you together."

She stared back at him curiously, unsure of what he was implying. "Our situation?"

"Your... you know," Eric gestured towards her stomach. "Baby."

Daryl immediately felt vaguely threatened by the conversation, and stood from the table to show it. They hadn't told anyone about Sasha's pregnancy other than Rick, and by extension, Michonne, and he was certain neither of them had revealed that to a bunch of strangers. "Y'all spyin' on us?"

"Daryl, sit down," Sasha instructed, taking his arm.

"Nah, I need an answer first."

"We're not," Aaron returned calmly. "I swear. It's just something we noticed when you arrived. How she didn't carry anything, she was the only one with water and food even though you all must have been starving and dehydrated. Rick insisted that she be put on duty in the guard tower, which is conveniently out of harm's way. And tonight, you refused the wine," he said directly to Sasha. "It's my job to notice these kinds of things."

"And we understand why you would be hesitant to go off on the road every month with your girlfriend being pregnant," Eric assured them. "So don't feel obligated to say yes."

"Daryl doesn't even know what 'obligated' means," she joked, still willing him to take his seat. "He's only gonna do it if he thinks it's the right thing to do."

"Good."

Daryl hesitantly reclaimed his chair, pulling back up to the table to resume his meal. "We gotta talk about this," he said to Sasha.

"We do," she concurred. "We'll see what Rick thinks about it as well."

He nodded back in agreement and then looked at Aaron. "How long 'til you need an answer?"

"End of the week?"

"All right. I think we can do that," he conceded, looking to his girlfriend for confirmation. "Right?"

She smiled at him warmly, though she was already clear what his answer would be. Even back at the prison, he was on the council of course, but he was essentially their scout for new people. This was his thing. "Yeah, I think so."

* * *

"So Rick, I'm curious," Pete proclaimed as he set down his fourth beer of the night, his eyes still shifting to Michonne, "how'd you two meet?"

"Oh, well," Rick cleared his throat, "it's funny, we didn't exactly get along so well when we first met," he recalled with a soft chuckle.

"Because he was an asshole," Michonne cut in jokingly.

"I was," he had to agree, his eyebrows raised in concession. "But she was, too."

"He had just lost his wife..."

"And I had this baby that I had no idea what to do with. I was losing my mind, honestly," he shook his head, fixated on his wife. "And she showed up at my doorstep, like some sort of guardian angel. This complete stranger, covered in blood, toting baby formula, and... I dunno. I remember being unable to take my eyes off of her."

Jessie was unable to contain her smile at their meet cute. "How on earth did you know he had a baby?"

"Oh god," Michonne chuckled, remembering the whole sordid deal with Maggie and Glenn and Merle. "Well," she sighed, "it's a long, awful story, but to make it short, Maggie and Glenn were abducted while out on a run for the aforementioned baby formula. I couldn't help them. I had just gotten shot and I would've just gotten myself caught, too."

"Jesus," Pete inserted, in total disbelief of all the shit these people had obviously been through.

"It was a mess," Michonne confirmed. "But I got wind of the fact that they were living at this prison, so once they were gone, I grabbed the formula, figuring they must've needed it for something, and went and found them."

"Wow," Jessie was shaking head in awe. "So you basically saved Judith's life."

"And Glenn's, and Maggie's," Rick submitted. "And mine..." He was gazing over at her with a happy smile on his lips. "It took a long time to get where we are now, but... I wouldn't trade a single second of it."

"Well I might trade in a few seconds," Michonne teased. "But no, he's right. Everything we've been through is what brought us here."

"But how did you go from treating each other like shit to this?" Pete questioned, taking another swig of his beer. "I always wonder that about people. How they manage to go back and make it right. Seems impossible."

"I don't know if it is about going back," Michonne frowned thoughtfully. "You move forward. And not in a 'This never happened' sort of way, but you say, 'Let's get past this.'"

Rick nodded, sitting back in his chair with his own beer. "And I think it strengthens your bond when you have to go through something together. I mean, if we hadn't lost the prison, I'm not sure what we would be right now. Probably still trying to pretend we weren't completely in love with each other."

"That was you," Michonne submitted with a smile. "I was fine with my feelings."

"See what I mean," he laughed.

Jessie grinned at them wistfully, wishing she knew what that felt like. "That's what you hope you get when you marry someone," she said without thinking. "Someone to go through all the hard shit with."

Michonne wasn't sure how to respond to that, as it seemed she was implying that she hadn't found that with Pete. "Well... you guys have been together for fifteen years," she diplomatically offered. "You've obviously made it through a lot together."

"Not even half of what you two have," Pete scoffed. "This one gets a paper cut and you'd think the sky was falling."

"All right," Jessie nodded at him mocking her.

"Where'd you get shot, Michonne?"

"My left thigh," she answered, instinctively patting the wound. "Rick took a bullet there too, actually."

"My god..."

"That one was nothin'," he chuckled. "When all this started, I took a few to my ribcage. Then I got stabbed in the shoulder around the time Michonne and I met. You remember that?" he looked to her.

"I remember that," she nodded slowly. "He walked around for a month trying not to move his arm."

"Meanwhile, Pete Anderson, the surgeon, turns into a giant baby if he gets a cold," Jessie shook her head playfully. "Count yourself lucky, Michonne."

"Oh, don't let the stoicism fool you. Rick is still a giant baby when he gets a cold," she laughed.

"I have no idea what she's talkin' about," he joked, beaming back at her.

As the four of them continued their laughter through a rather enjoyable evening on the Anderson's patio, their back door slid open, and their oldest boy, Ron, came sauntering outside, Carl not far behind, and their youngest son, Sam, bringing up the rear.

"Mom, can we have dessert yet?" Ron pleaded, making his way to his parents' side of the table. "We finished eating like an hour ago."

"Shit, I forgot all about you guys," she giggled, hopping up from her seat. "Sam and I made a chocolate cake," she told the rest of the table as she picked up Rick and Michonne's empty plates. "You guys want?"

"I know Michonne does," Rick chuckled, standing as well. "I can just have some of hers."

"No you cannot," she shot back playfully. "But I would love some, thank you."

"Coming right up," Jessie smiled, rounding up the troops. "Come on, boys."

Rick lightly squeezed Michonne's shoulder as he passed her, following Jessie and their kids inside on his way to the restroom. Pete and Michonne were left alone outside for the first time that evening, and she smiled at him politely as she took a sip of her dwindling glass of wine.

"You are so beautiful," he commented, obviously unafraid to show his fascination with her. He'd been staring at her all night, even while trying to engage with her husband and his wife. "Just stunning."

She looked down shyly, unsure of how to respond. It had been so long since she had gotten dressed for an occasion and put on makeup, it felt odd to take a compliment. Even from someone she didn't necessarily want one from. "Thank you," she eventually replied.

Pete stood from his seat to take the one Rick had occupied, just next to her. He shook his head in disbelief as he sat down. "I can't believe Rick didn't want you from the minute he saw you."

"There was a lot going on the minute he saw me," she chuckled uneasily.

"Nothing more interesting than this, I'd bet." He leaned over the arm of his chair, smiling at her drunkenly. "God, you even smell good. Jessie never smells good anymore."

"She's running around after two boys," she defended her new friend. She moved her chair a bit to her left to get away from his leering. She didn't want to make a scene, but she most certainly would if she had to. "Maybe you should go back to your seat."

"I will," he nodded, harshly setting his empty beer bottle on the table. "I just wanted to get a good look at you."

She didn't respond.

"You should come in for a checkup soon." He finally did stand to go back to his side of the table, grabbing another Corona on the way. "I can take a look at that gunshot wound, make sure it's healed properly."

"It was taken care of by a doctor," she smiled tensely, thinking of Hershel. "But thank you."

"Well come on in anyway. When's the last time you had a physical? A mammogram?"

She shuddered at just the thought of him seeing her naked. "I'm fine."

"You sure are," he laughed. As if no one had ever made that joke before. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying these things.

"No, you shouldn't," she agreed.

"Hey, maybe your husband is in there saying the same things to my wife."

"I guarantee you he's not," she quipped. As if to prove her statement, Rick then appeared in the back door, coming to rejoin the conversation. But Michonne quickly stood, no longer concerned with impropriety. She was ready to go. "We're leaving," she told Rick. "Go get Carl."

"You can't go yet," Pete frowned. "What about your cake?"

Rick gazed at Michonne, and then at his neighbor, understanding that something had transpired in the few minutes he was gone to make her want to leave. So he didn't question it, but simply followed her inside. Carl was at the kitchen table with Ron and Sam, waiting his turn to play the Nintendo DSi. "Carl, let's go," Michonne said, strutting through the kitchen.

"But I'm not finished with my cake," he protested with a mouth full of chocolate.

Jessie turned in surprise as well. "You guys are leaving?"

"Yes," Rick said, still not even sure of why. "But thank you for a lovely evening."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he nodded, also not sure if that were true. "Carl, get up. Now."

He nodded in compliance and stood from the table, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow," he told Ron.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," he promised him. "See you bright and early at noon."

The three of them headed for the front door just as Pete came in from the back, Michonne rolling her eyes as she realized he was in the room.

As soon as she heard the door close, Jessie turned back to her husband in disgust, knowing he had just ruined a perfectly good evening. "What'd you do this time, Pete?"

"I didn't do anything."

She rolled her eyes herself, and dropped her knife and dishtowel to the counter. She no longer wanted to be in the same room with him anymore either. "Come on, boys. Time to get ready for bed."

Back outside, the Grimes family made the short walk back towards their own home, both Rick and Carl confused about why they had to leave in such a rush. "You wanna tell me what that was about?" Rick decided to ask, knowing he probably wouldn't like the answer.

"I was just ready to go," she retorted with a shrug. As much as she wanted to tell Rick that Pete was a raggedy drunken asshole, she knew his temper too well to unleash that information. It wouldn't look good for them if one of the new constables ripped someone's head off the first week they were there. "That's okay, right?"

Rick and Carl exchanged knowing glances, having caught on to the fact that she was lying. "So everything was going fine, and then you're alone with Pete for three minutes and you're ready to go?"

"Yep."

Rick paused in the middle of the street, just before they could reach their driveway, causing Carl and Michonne to stop as well, turning back to him. "Carl, go inside."

"But Dad-."

"What is with the protesting everything all of a sudden?" he frowned. "Go."

"Fine," he sighed, heading up the walkway as slowly as he could so that he could hear at least a bit of their impending conversation.

Rick approached Michonne, his head tilted to try and get a read of her face. "He touch you?"

"No," she promised, resting her hands on his chest. "He didn't _do_ anything. I just… don't like him, I guess."

Rick knew it was more than just a bad vibe that got them out of there so abruptly. "Well did he say somethin'?"

"Not really," she sighed. "I don't know."

"Michonne…"

"I got it, okay?" She held the tips of his collar and pulled him in for a quick peck on the lips. "Whatever it is, I can handle it."

"But what _is_ it, babe?"

"I don't know," she repeated, honestly this time. "Which is why I don't wanna tell you. But I promise, if I start to feel like I can't handle it, I'll let you know. Okay?"

He sighed heavily, but he understood. And he would trust her to tell him when and if the time was right. "Okay."


	3. Family Business

**3 – Family Business**

Michonne was enjoying a casual stroll home after her most eventful evening on duty to date. Deanna's younger son, Aiden, had gotten "trapped" in the guard tower after discovering it was surrounded by about a dozen walkers, and proceeded to freak out. Carol happened to be passing by at the time, so Michonne enlisted her help and they were able to dispatch the small herd in a matter of minutes.

Other than that, her day had been fairly low key, which she was fine with. That was, until she ran into Pete on her way towards her house. Much by her own design, she hadn't seen him since the awkward end to their dinner several nights prior, and she had been hoping to keep it that way. He clearly had other plans, however.

"Well hello there," he approached her with a big smile on his face.

Her hand instinctively went to grab the handle of her sword, only to be reminded that she didn't have it with her. She had nothing. She silently cursed Deanna and her ridiculous rules as she avoided eye contact with him. "Hello," she answered him flatly, begrudgingly.

"Haven't seen you around all week," he noted, somehow oblivious to her distaste for him. "Everything been going okay?"

"Fine."

"Listen," he shook his head, moving in closer to her. When she instantly retreated, he stopped short. "I know I wasn't on my best behavior the other night, and I probably said some things I shouldn't have…"

Michonne glared at him, then up the street, towards her house. She was still about a block away, but she wanted nothing more than to make a run for it. She would never forget how creepy she found him, especially after offering to examine her.

"I'm saying I'm sorry here," he chuckled when she didn't respond. "I'm a shit when I'm drunk. And you're just so…"

He actually made her skin crawl. Even when attempting to be contrite, he just came off as creepy. He reminded her of Gorman. "Keep walking, Pete," she instructed sternly.

He laughed again, confused. "What?"

"You should keep walking."

"Michonne, I'm s-."

When it became clear that he wasn't going to stop trying to engage with her, she decided to walk off herself, leaving him looking back at her stupefied. She let out a quiet sigh of relief that he didn't try to follow as she continued to her home. She walked through the door just as darkness officially fell over their little community. And as she pulled off her jacket, she noticed Rick and Sasha sitting at the kitchen table, looking back at her.

"Hey," she smiled at them uneasily, somewhat surprised by their guest. She was really hoping to come home and just fall into Rick's arms.

"Hey, 'Chonne," Rick greeted her first. Even from a few feet away, he could detect the odd look on her face and the unease in her voice. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she sighed again, coming to join them. She softly patted Sasha's shoulder before going to Rick for her welcome home kiss – a quick, but much needed peck on the lips. "What are you two in here talking about?" She took a seat at the head of the table as she waited for their reply.

"I just wanted to see what Rick thought about this recruiter job Aaron offered Daryl," Sasha revealed, tiredly rubbing at her face. "He's supposed to give him an answer tomorrow, and we still don't know what to do."

"I told her I don't like the idea of Daryl leavin'. And especially not once she gets further along," Rick submitted. "But… given everything I know about Daryl, it's probably best if he's not cooped up here for too long."

While Michonne agreed with that, she didn't feel comfortable weighing in on something she hadn't been asked about, so she simply nodded. "What do you want him to do?" she questioned Sasha.

"Well I obviously want him here with me," she chuckled lightly. "But I feel like he'd regret it if he didn't take the job. I mean, what else is he gonna do? Construction with Ty and Abraham?"

"He could," Rick offered with a shrug. "I don't think that's what's best for him, but… he could."

"Well, I want what's best for him."

Michonne so badly wanted to ask if that was at the expense of what was best for herself. But again, she refrained. She and Sasha weren't as close as Rick and Sasha, and she didn't want to step on any toes. Maybe she would talk to Daryl about it.

"What are you over there thinkin' about," Rick wondered, cutting into her thoughts. He had already noticed that she seemed preoccupied with something, and it didn't seem to be going away. "Everything go okay today?"

She was reluctant to bring up Pete in their home again. They hadn't discussed him since their dinner on Sunday, and she appreciated that Rick hadn't pressed her on it. But she knew the second she brought him up now, it would officially be a 'thing.' "I think I'm just tired," she nodded.

Sasha gazed at her curiously, as it was obvious that she was lying. 'Tired' was the line everyone used when they were avoiding something. "You sure?"

Rick looked his wife up and down, studying her face and the frown she was trying to suppress. He noted her body language and the way she wouldn't look at him, but kept her eyes focused on her fingers, gliding along the edge of the table. "Michonne, tell me."

She laughed in spite of herself, amused by his ability to read her to a tee. "Have you had any interaction with Pete Anderson?" she asked Sasha.

"No," she frowned, shaking her head. "Nothing more than in passing at the pantry."

"What did he do?" Rick asked as calmly as he could. But it was obvious the tension on his face was mounting.

"He didn't _do_ anything," she promised him once again. "It's just a vibe I get. He's said some things he shouldn't have said, but… maybe I'm—"

"Like what?" he demanded, his jaw clenched.

"I don't even know," she shook her head. "That's not the point."

"You just don't like him?" Sasha pressed.

"Yeah, he just… he gives me that same feeling I got from Gorman," she admitted, looking to her husband. Only he knew who that was, and what that meant. "And I don't know if that's _fair_ ," she went on, just as Rick got up and began pacing the room, "but I can't shake that feeling."

"And who's Gorman?"

"One of the officers at Grady," she answered simply. She would leave out the part where she ripped out his throat with her bare teeth. "Rick, please sit down."

"We're gettin' our guns back," he said matter-of-factly, still pacing; his boots pounding against their wooden floor. "We're not doin' this again."

"Rick…" Sasha sighed as well.

"I don't care," he went on. "We saw what happened the last time you didn't have a weapon on you. I don't care if I have one, but you need to be armed," he said seriously. "You too, Sasha."

"Deanna's not gonna let us-."

"Fuck Deanna," he spat back. He concocted a plan and spoke it into existence as quickly as his brain would allow. "I'll raid the armory tonight. No, tomorrow night," he corrected himself. "Olivia closes up the pantry at nine on Saturdays, right?"

"Yeah… but you leave room for more witnesses if you go in that early," Michonne frowned. "We should wait until midnight; maybe even later than that."

Rick nodded, glad to know that his lady was instantly on board. "So tomorrow afternoon sometime, I'll need you two to go to the pantry. One of you distract Olivia while the other unlocks the window."

"You two are crazy," Sasha shook her head at their actual plan for a B & E. "And I can't show up at the pantry again tomorrow, or Olivia is gonna think I'm a hoarder."

"Well she's one, so it wouldn't matter much," Michonne joked. "And isn't Carol hosting a get-together on Sunday?" she realized. "It would make sense that you're hoarding food. We'll just say I'm there to help you carry it back."

Sasha could only roll her eyes, realizing that she had already gotten caught in Rick and Michonne's grimy little web. And with a sigh, she conceded that she was in this with them now. "All right, so after we unlock the window, what time does Rick go in?"

* * *

Nearly an hour later, once the plan for the armory raid was fully concocted, Michonne trudged up the stairs to retire for the night. Rick wouldn't be too far behind, once he put away the last remaining dishes. So while she waited, she headed into the kids' rooms to check on them, just as she had every night since they arrived.

Carl's was the first on the right as she came up the steps, so she went to him first, amused to see him sprawled across his bed, snoring loudly, like an absolute teenager. He had obviously fallen asleep reading some comic book about wolves, so she picked up the open book from the floor, careful not to lose his place, and sat it face down on his dresser. She couldn't help but watch him for a moment. It was astonishing to her sometimes, how much he had grown in the time she'd known him. He was so adult in so many ways, it made her happy to have moments like this, where she could steal a glimpse of the kid she met a year ago. In some ways, he would always be that kid to her, even as he transformed into this man before her very eyes. So she would cherish those moments, holding onto them tightly before they were all gone.

With a wistful sigh, Michonne continued back across the landing, towards Judith's room, surprised to walk in and find the toddler standing in her crib, as if she'd been waiting for a visitor to appear. She had a mischievous grin on her little face, with her finger hanging out of her mouth.

"What are you doing up," Michonne whispered, walking over to her with a shocked smile. "What are you doing up, Cutie?"

Judith responded with a long string of nonsensical words, as she often did, and then giggled at herself. She held her hands out, signifying that she wanted Michonne to pick her up, and she did so in one rapid sweep. Judith instantly grabbed one of her dreads and attempted to pull it into her mouth.

"Listen," Michonne laughed, taking her hair back. "We are not doing this tonight." She began to feel her diaper for wetness, relieved to find that she was dry as a bone. That, of course, did nothing to explain why she was wide-awake at a time she was normally dead to the world, whether she had a bed to sleep in or not. "Are you hungry?" she wondered out loud. Rick wouldn't have put her to bed without feeding her, but figured it wouldn't hurt to see if she wanted something.

The two of them padded downstairs, finding Rick was already gone, and Michonne opened the refrigerator to see what she could do for the baby girl. There wasn't much in the way of quick snacks, so she pulled the peanut butter from the top shelf, shaking her head at the fact that Rick insisted on keeping it there like some kind of savage. "How about a PB sandwich?" she offered, knowing the baby wouldn't answer as she grabbed the bread from their pantry, along with a plate. "I wish we had some bananas."

Judith watched every move Michonne made, attempting to repeat the word "bananas" as she stuffed her fingers in her mouth in amusement.

"Yes," Michonne quietly cooed. "Bananas." She sat the baby on the kitchen counter next to their plate, grabbed a butter knife, and got to work on making them a quick one-sided peanut butter sandwich. She cut a small piece for Judy to work on, and a bigger one for herself, knowing that Judith was very serious about sharing. "Here," she offered her piece, watching with a smile as her little fingers folded the bread into her mouth and she began to suck on it. "That's disgusting," Michonne chuckled. She took a bite of her own makeshift sandwich, thoroughly enjoying their late night snack.

Judith's face contorted as she smacked her gums and little teeth together over the sticky substance. "Mmmm," she babbled up at Michonne.

She couldn't help but smile back at her animated little face as she repeated her. "Mmmm." She gave her kiss on the nose, mimicking the smacking sound she was making. "Mmmmuah."

Judith covered her face with her tiny peanut butter-covered hand, followed by an adorable giggle. She continued to speak in words Michonne didn't understand while kicking her legs against the counter. Michonne simply watched her as she finished her half of their sandwich.

"You two are adorable," Rick commented from the entryway to the kitchen, beaming from ear to ear as he observed them.

Michonne looked up, startled, while Judith turned her entire body to the sound of her father's voice. "I thought you went up to bed," Michonne grinned back at him.

"Just lockin' up," he confirmed, walking towards the two of them. "I thought I put you to bed hours ago," he whispered to Judith.

"I went in to make sure she was okay," she explained, "and she was standing in her crib, in the dark, as if she was waiting on me to come in."

Judy was still giggling at her own antics as she held out what was left of her soggy bread, handing it to her dad. "Oh, okay," he chuckled, taking it into his palm.

Michonne gave her the other half of her half, both of them watching her go to town on it. As excited as she was to have another little one running around, she really enjoyed Judith more than words could say. The two of them had become inseparable on the way to Washington, and it was only becoming truer as they got more comfortable at Alexandria.

"I love you, Cutie," Michonne told her genuinely. She wiped at the peanut butter on her face and then looked to Rick, seemingly enthralled with his daughter, and it was right there, in that moment, that she understood what happiness looked like after everything they'd been through. This was it. She was happy. "I love you, too," she added, wiping the remnants of peanut butter over Rick's lips.

He took that opportunity to kiss her, leaving the confection on her cheek now. "And I love you."

* * *

Rick, Michonne, and Sasha's plan to steal guns from the armory had gone off without a hitch. Saturday afternoon, Michonne and Sasha went over to the pantry to do their version of grocery shopping; Michonne unlocked the window to the pantry, while Sasha and Olivia discussed wild boar and bread-making. Then later that night, at the end of his shift, Rick stopped by the pantry to steal back his Python, along with a couple of smaller handguns for Michonne and Sasha. They decided to keep the numbers low, so as not to arouse suspicions, but he really, really wanted to take all their weapons back. Deanna just seemed so oblivious to the threats surrounding them. But for now, he would take three and hoped it would suffice.

He walked into his home at somewhere close to midnight, surprised to find Sasha and Daryl asleep on one of his couches as if they lived there. He quietly tiptoed closer, finding Michonne asleep on the other, with Carl and Judith haphazardly laid across her. He noticed the empty plates and popsicle sticks adorning the coffee table, and he realized he had obviously missed a party.

Ever the light sleeper, Daryl heard Rick's footsteps, and opened his eyes to see his friend searching for blankets. "We're leavin'," Daryl announced quietly, knowing Rick wouldn't have woken them otherwise. "You ain't gotta do all that."

"Nonsense," Rick declined in a whisper, his eyes falling to Sasha. "She's knocked out." He quickly rummaged through the chest built into the cubbyhole at the front door, finding three lightweight blankets for his family. He tossed one to Daryl, then covered Carl with the second, and Michonne and Judith with the other. He left three kisses to the tops of their three heads before heading off to bed.

* * *

Rick awoke bright and early the following morning, after a somewhat uncomfortable night in bed alone. He had gotten so used to Michonne being next to him, be it on a bus, the ground, or their bed, his body almost didn't know how to react without her there. He was quick to retreat from his room, hoping that she would be awake when he went downstairs, but instead, found Sasha sitting at his kitchen counter. In his grogginess, he had completely forgotten that she and Daryl spent the night.

"Hey," he greeted her hoarsely, immediately wishing he had thrown on some pants over his boxers.

"Hey," she smirked. She stuffed an apple slice into her mouth, trying not to laugh at Rick's skinny legs. "How'd it go last night?"

"Good," he nodded. He briefly peered into the living room, seeing that there were no signs of life, and then glanced at the clock on their oven. It wasn't even 6:00 yet. "What are you doin' up so early?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," she retorted, cracking a smile. "Morning sickness over here."

"It's back?" he frowned. He remembered it waning while they were on the road, so he was surprised to hear that she was experiencing it again.

"Rearing its ugly ass head," she confirmed, taking a few small sips of her water. "We were thinking now would be a good time to tell the rest of the group…"

Rick shifted towards the pantry to find his favorite coffee, but nodded in agreement. "You said you like it here, right?"

"I do," she nodded back. "We do…"

"So then why wouldn't you?"

She smiled ruefully at the fact that it was just so easy for him to adjust to all this. "Because then it's real."

"It was real long before you got here," he turned back to her, his eyebrows raised knowingly. "Consider yourself lucky we found a place where it's okay that it's real."

"I guess you're right," she sighed. She took another bite of her apple as she considered the alternative. "Even if we do have to steal our own guns back to get through the day…"

"Minor complication," he chuckled quietly. "Look at the big picture, Sasha."

"I'm looking at it," she nodded, smiling. "And I like it. That's the scary part. We all got here and signed the papers, not a whole lot of questions asked."

He mulled over her analogy as he poured enough coffee grinds for himself, Michonne, and Daryl. She wasn't wrong. They had walked into Alexandria a bit blindly, trusting that Noah's family being there was testimony enough. And so far, that hadn't led them astray. "Michonne is happier than I've ever seen her," Rick declared quietly, but seriously. Her laughs, her smiles, they were genuine, and frequent. This was exactly what she needed, especially after everything that happened at Grady. "Things aren't perfect here," he admitted. "Deanna is… she needs help. And I don't even know what to think of Pete Anderson. But… she's happy," he gestured towards the living room, where his wife was asleep. "She's safe, and so are my kids. That's all I need to know."

She smiled at him warmly as she took another sip from her glass. "Speaking of Pete, he came by last night…"

Rick immediately felt his face flush, and his grip tightened on the coffee pot as he turned back to Sasha. He wanted to break that man's jaw for showing up at his doorstep when he wasn't home. His jaw clenched as he asked, "What did he want?"

"He was looking for Jessie," she shook her head, confused by it all. "It was weird. I couldn't tell whether he was concerned about her, or mad at her."

"That all he wanted?" he tilted his head combatively.

"That was all he said," she shrugged. "I can see why Michonne doesn't like him, though."

He looked up to the ceiling with a big sigh. He couldn't figure out this guy's angle, and it was driving him crazy. He couldn't kill a man just because he annoyed him, but by god, he wanted to.

He walked out of the kitchen without warning or explanation, and returned a few seconds later with a small satchel in his hands. "Our stash," he offered simply, dropping it to the counter to finish his coffee-making.

"How long do we wait to wake them up?"

"Michonne'll be up soon," Rick knew, taking a seat beside his friend. "If Judy doesn't wake her first."

"Well god knows she gets up early," Sasha joked, remembering all those mornings she heard her crying before the sun even came up.

"We're up, too," Carl announced from the doorway of the kitchen, rubbing at his sleepy blue eyes as Daryl moved past him, quickly followed by Michonne, with Judith still asleep in her arms. "You make a lot of noise, Dad."

"I was tryin' to be quiet," he shrugged, standing to greet his two girls. He took Judy off of Michonne's hands before giving her a quick kiss. "Hey."

"Hey," she yawned.

Daryl claimed Rick's seat as he looked around the large kitchen for signs of actual food. "All that noise and you ain't makin' breakfast?"

"I hadn't gotten to that part yet," Rick chuckled. He draped Judith over his shoulder, holding her steady with one hand, while using the other to open his bag. "Carl, get over here," he instructed. He wanted to make sure that everyone in his family was well aware of what was going on. Once they were all in place around the counter, he carefully pulled out his .357, along with two other 9mm pistols. "This stays between us," he reminded them as he handed Michonne one of the guns. He passed the other to Sasha, knowing she would need it more than Daryl, given that he would be leaving soon. "Keep it hidden. This is a just in case, emergency situation thing."

The two women instinctively checked the clips for bullets before nodding to him. "And don't pull it out if you don't plan to use it," Michonne added. "Once our secret's out, it's out."

"Is there a reason we're doing this?" Carl piped up. "Should I be worried?"

"No," Michonne and Rick answered simultaneously.

"But you should be alert," Rick appended. "We all should. Whether it's walkers or your neighbors, or some other threat we haven't met yet. But when you've got something good," he looked at all four of them, his piercing blue eyes full of fire, "that just means that there's someone who wants to take it."

Rick surprised even himself as Morgan's words came falling from his lips. But those words, that omen, had stuck with him for so long. Likely because it was true, and it had been proven over and over again. If someone wasn't trying to take his home, they came for his family, his woman, his sanity. He had a lot of somethings good now, and he would be damned if anyone took them from him.

* * *

 **A/N:** (Please forgive me for any typos - my laptop is being super weird tonight.) Anywho! This was a little more lighthearted, I know, but some very necessary things are being set up as well. Can't wait to hear you guys' thoughts on where this is headed. Of course, if any of you actually guess it, I'm gonna change the whole story, so maybe I don't wanna know, haha. -Ash


	4. Today Was A Good Day

**A/N:** Okay, a couple of things really quick. (Well not really quick, because I'm long-winded, lol.) CallyGreen, first of all, thank you so much for your feedback. So I guess it needs to be made clearer, but this isn't about lying to the group, not even for Rick. If he could've stolen 20 guns and armed all his people, he would've. And I thought about doing that, like in the comics, but it made more sense to me that that would get them caught. And this was just more about what happened in Atlanta, with Michonne being taken, probably, at least partially due to not having a weapon on her, and that's the mindset Rick is in. He's not letting that happen again. Same for Michonne. And that's why I specifically had the five of them (the ones that were part of the rescue mission) be the only ones in on this secret gun plan. Even though Alexandria isn't really a threat, even though they don't even know that Pete is an actual threat, they are the ones on highest alert because of Grady. So I hope that gives it a little more context?

Anyway, as always, I thank you all so much for engaging me. You're all awesome.

Let's continue, shall we? This chapter is long as hell, and I'm not even sure why, so... I'm sorry, lol. Also, just a reminder that this story is rated M for… reasons! –Ash

* * *

 **4 – Today Was A Good Day**

"Well good morning," Deanna grinned brightly as she opened her door to two of her newest community members. Rick and Glenn stood before her, looking on awkwardly, as if they weren't sure how to respond. Glenn smiled politely, while Rick nodded. "Come in," she encouraged, pulling back to allow them into her home. "Come." She led them towards her dining room table, where she already had a pen and pad ready for their discussion. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," Rick returned, resisting the urge to take the seat at the head of the table. "For meeting with us, I mean."

"Anytime," she waved him off. "Anything you all need, I'm here to make sure you get it."

"Well that's good," Glenn chuckled, "because we have a bit of a list."

She cheerfully tapped her writing pad as she smiled at him. "I was counting on it."

"We know that you already assigned certain people to do runs," Rick went on, unsure of how she would receive his suggestion, "but I really think that Glenn and I should handle this one in particular."

"You're our constable," she immediately frowned, shaking her head at the idea. "I gave you that job for a reason."

"And I get that," he nodded, his eyes flitting down towards his hands, "but I don't know what your people can handle, and I'm not sending Glenn fifty, sixty miles away with people that don't know what they're doing."

"Nicholas and Aiden are very capable runners," she defended her son and his friend. "They got along just fine before you guys got here, and I think they'll be valuable assets to Glenn's crew."

"Deanna, this isn't about their capabilities," Glenn cut in. He was doing his best to be diplomatic, but he was with Rick – he didn't want to be out on the road with strangers that barely knew how to kill walkers. "It's about ours. Rick and I can take a few days, find out what we need to, and get back here. If I take four people, two of whom I'm not comfortable with, I'm not sure what happens."

She peered back at him, digesting his words. "So are you saying I shouldn't have made you the leader of this crew?"

"I'm saying that your people need more training," he shook his head. "If I'm being honest, even Tara isn't as ready as I'd want her to be. So like I said, this isn't about us versus you."

"Why don't you guys tell me what you're going out for," she said, smiling at them now. "And then we can decide who goes where."

Rick and Glenn exchanged uneasy glances, both of them unsure of why this woman was so stubborn. She had brought them in for a reason, but she seemed intent on cutting them off at the pass at every turn. She was so inexplicably serious about doing things _her_ way. "All right," Glenn sighed.

"Well for starters," Rick began, "you should be looking for toilet paper and batteries every time you leave these gates."

"You should be stockpiling it," Glenn agreed. "Aaron should be collecting that instead of license plates."

"We have runs scheduled every other week," Deanna cut in. "I know they don't always bring those things back, but they're looking."

"They're not going far enough," Glenn added. "Aiden showed me their search zone, and it's almost unbelievable that you guys haven't exhausted everything in the area at this point. I mean, in six months, we had cleared everything within a twenty-five-mile radius of the prison."

"My goodness."

"Of course a lot of that was pure land," Rick explained understandingly, "but that's what makes this space better, and also more dangerous. But we can't leave any stone uncovered. Because if we don't take it, someone else will."

"Okay," she nodded, writing their recommendations as quickly as she could.

"Gas and ammo. Again, we should be looking for this regularly," Glenn said. "You said Washington was cleared out relatively early, so this should be available in heavy supply, and I'm not sure why you don't have more."

"We've never had a need for a lot of guns," she shook her head. "Not since the walls went up."

"Just in case," Rick insisted. "You don't need 'em until you do."

Glenn nodded, running his hand over his face. "Okay, so those are just the staples. The stuff we need regularly. But those micro-inverters for the solar grid? Eugene said that some of those are at the end of their rope. We're gonna need more before we even get through the summer."

"Reg said the same. And he gave me the address for a warehouse where you can find more of them."

"Good," Glenn nodded again. "Good."

"We also need more steel so we can fortify the walls," Rick continued. "And we wanna have a serious talk about expanding the walls. We're gonna have to find another construction site to steal from…"

"I don't feel comfortable with my guys going any further than the mall we've assigned them to."

"That's not enough, Deanna," he exhaled sharply. "You can't keep everyone contained to this one little space, just because you're scared. That's not how this works."

"That's how we don't lose people, Rick."

"I've never lost anyone on a run," he tried to reassure her. "Even at the beginning of this, when I had no idea what I was doing, we all made it from Atlanta to our camp in once piece."

"Well… I have. And it's fine if you know what you're doing out there, but that's not your job."

"Are you kidding me?"

"We have to have order," she returned sternly. "You can't just do whatever you want, Rick."

He had been doing his best not to step on Deanna's toes. As much as he believed she was out of her league, she had managed to sustain a community, and that likely meant she had to be doing something right. But it just felt like so many things were being done wrong.

"I understand that you were the leader out there," she continued to chide him. "And I commend you for keeping all those people alive. But you're not out there anymore. This isn't your prison, this isn't the wild. This is the Alexandria Safe Zone, and I have kept these people safe for over a year, Rick. That's not nothing."

"It's not," he agreed. "But you also brought us in here for a reason."

"I did."

"So let us help."

She paused for a long time, glancing back and forth between Glenn and Rick as she thought through the idea of allowing Rick to effectively change jobs for a couple of days. People were watching, and she was more than aware of what it would look like to have Rick taking on more than one role. It would look as though she was allowing him to do whatever he wanted. And in essence, that was true. But the truth was also that he knew what he was doing, and if Glenn was asking that of her, as a leader, it was important for her to acknowledge that. "How long will you two be gone?" she sighed in concession.

"We don't know," Glenn was hesitant to admit. "Hopefully, not more than a week or so, but we do want to explore some of the roads, just to see what we're dealing with. To get a scope of Alexandria, Washington, whatever."

"So I've only got one constable for a week, maybe more?"

"Michonne is more capable than I am," Rick promised. "Don't worry."

"Easy for you to say," she smiled back at him dolefully. "Anything else I need to add to this list?"

"Oh, yeah," Glenn remembered. "Jessie asked me to find some more first aid kits if I get the chance. So I don't know if that's something that's in every house, but it should be."

"Probably for Pete," Rick commented absently, recalling seeing a stack of first aid kits in the infirmary when they first arrived. "But everyone should have at least one. Make sure Bob and Beth have a couple on hand for themselves, as well."

"All right," Deanna nodded. She fumbled with her pen for a bit before writing the request, then avoided contact as she asked, "Anything else?"

"I think that's the gist of it," Glenn nodded, looking to Rick for confirmation. "Right?"

"For now," he confirmed standing from the table. "I think that's a good place to start while we get to know the area."

The other two stood as well, Deanna still feeling uneasy as she moved to shake the men's hands. "You'll be leaving in the morning, I take it?"

"We will," Rick returned her handshake. "We'll map our route today and give you an outline, just in case."

She held onto his hand as she looked him squarely in the eye. "Please don't make me regret this."

Leaving his family wasn't something he wanted to do. It wasn't something he looked forward to, or even felt completely comfortable with. But protecting them wasn't about just being able to see them all the time. It was about making sure that Alexandria was everything it could be. It was about knowing that Michonne could handle things at home, while he went out and provided for them. "I don't plan on it," he said seriously. "But thank you for trusting me." As the two of them exited Deanna's home, he checked to make sure his gun was still in place in the holster under his arm.

* * *

"Ay, Sasha," Daryl called up the steps to his girlfriend, "bring them socks on the dresser when you come down!"

Sasha sat up from the bed, glancing at the dresser in question as she threw her shirt over her head, finding nothing. "I don't see any socks!" she yelled back to him.

"They're on the dresser!"

"I'm looking at the dresser! There are shoelaces, your house keys, and an empty cup. That's it!"

After a long pause, he finally called back, "Can you bring me some socks when you come down?"

With a chuckle, she hopped out of bed, grabbed three pairs of socks from their shared sock and underwear drawer, along with the shoelaces and his keys, and headed downstairs. There, she found Daryl in the living room, finishing up with the packing of his bag for the road. "Here," she shook her head, handing over the items. "Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"Carol left some muffins in there," he mumbled, nodding. "Packed some to add to our stash, too."

"I'm pretty sure Eric and I already added way too much to it," she joked, referring to their food supply. They had used the entire previous afternoon to make sure Aaron and Daryl would have more than enough food while they were gone. "I was surprised they let us take that much."

"You say that every time you come back with more than a bar of chocolate..."

"I think I'm just starting to understand that Olivia has a crush on you, so she'll probably let me take whatever I want, so long as it's feeding you."

He scoffed at the idea as he threw his new supplies into his bag. "You gonna be all right, right?"

She offered a half shrug in reply. "Gotta be."

"It really ain't that long," he tried to remind her. He had been doing that for the past few days, though sometimes, it felt like he was more trying to remind himself. "I've had hangovers that lasted longer."

She smiled in reply. "Maybe I'll have a bump by the time you get back."

The idea of that excited him more than anything he could possibly imagine. He slung his backpack over his back and immediately pulled her into a hug. "You stay outta trouble."

She grabbed his chin to pull him in for a kiss, then left another peck on his cheek. "I always do, don't I?"

He laughed at what they both knew was a joke. Sasha was always in trouble, always the first to run towards it – her firefighting instincts kicking in. "I'm for real, Sash. Sit your ass down."

"I will," she promised, squeezing at his hand. "You keep your eyes open out there."

"Always do."

"And don't bring anybody back here that I wouldn't like."

He chuckled, knowing how easy that would be for him to do. Like him, Sasha was a fan of a very select few people. He held her hand for just a little bit longer, leaning in for one last kiss before letting her go. "Love you."

She could feel her face contorting into an ugly cry, thanks to her hormones, and she hated herself for it. It was always special to her when Daryl said he loved her - he wasn't one to express it often. But it was especially meaningful now, capping off their first goodbye in quite a while. They hadn't been apart for more than a day since he found her at Terminus. "I love you too," she smiled, trying to hold back her tears. She walked him to the door, running her hands through the back of his hair as he walked out. "Call me."

With an amused smirk, he headed on down the steps of his home, looking forward to the day he'd be walking back up them again.

* * *

Inside the Grimes home, Carl and Michonne were in the kitchen, staring at a table full of supplies and a sheet of paper, full of instructions on how to make biodiesel. They glanced back and forth at one another curiously.

"And Eugene said this would work," Michonne asked disbelievingly. She was still wary of just about everything the man said, but he was Carl's science teacher now, so she didn't want to completely undermine him. Still, it was hard to fathom that he was sending a bunch of teenagers off to make gas in their own homes. It could be either a very good idea, or a very bad one.

"He promised it would, if we follow the instructions," Carl nodded, though still quite wary of the idea himself. Being able to effectively transform vegetable oil and Drano into car fuel seemed like a long shot, but it was part of his assignment for the week, so he had to try it. "We can wait for my dad if you want..."

"For what?" she frowned.

"You just look like you don't wanna do this."

"Well so do you," she chuckled, poking him in the shoulder. "Unless your dad is secretly a chemist, I don't know if he can save us."

"He was always good with stuff like this," Carl recalled from his olden days. "Science fairs were always his favorite time of year."

"Well he is a giant dork, so that makes sense," Michonne joked. Carl laughed in reply, just as there was a knock at the front door. "Don't touch anything," she instructed seriously, headed for the foyer. Judith crawled past her from the living room, as if she were going to open the door herself. Michonne scooped her up before she could make it, and opened up, surprised to find Daryl at her doorstep. "I thought you were gone already," she greeted him, stepping back so that he could come inside.

"On my way out now," he confirmed. He softly pinched Judith's thigh as he made his way in. "Figured you'd be on duty by now."

"I've got the day off," she sighed. "Rick's going on a run, so I'm gonna be on full time duty for a few days. Figured I'd get my rest in now."

He nodded as he noted the way Judith tried to eat Michonne's hair. "So you got the kids all day, huh?"

"Some day off, right," she smirked. "Carl and I were just about to do some chemistry experiment that'll probably blow up the house."

"Never a dull moment," he chuckled. "Must be why Jessie's boy came by lookin' for methanol yesterday."

"That would be why," she confirmed, finally taking her hair back from Judith. She couldn't help but notice how he seemed a bit more melancholy, a bit more pensive than usual. Probably because he was leaving Sasha, but she thought she would ask. "You okay?"

"I'm good," he promised.

"You look like you have something on your mind?" she lightly pressed, tilting her head to examine his expression.

"Nah, I'm good," he nodded, his eyes falling to Judith and the way she held Michonne's neck. "It's just funny how much more I notice about kids now," he admitted. "It's all I see anymore."

She smiled at the idea that Daryl Dixon was going to be a father. It wasn't even news anymore, but it still blew her mind a bit, thinking about what it would be like to see him with a mini-him or a little Sasha. "Well that's not adorable or anything."

"Don't," he blushed, shaking his head. "It's weird enough on its own."

"Well kids are a lot more rare nowadays," she conceded, trying to assuage his embarrassment. "Their presence demands to be felt." As if on cue, there was a clanking sound in the kitchen, either a pot or a metal bowl falling to the floor. "Carl, what are you doing?" Michonne called back to him. Judith yelled over her shoulder, mimicking her words.

There was a long pause before he answered, "Nothing..."

"See what I mean?"

"Never a dull moment," he repeated with a joking scoff. "I didn't mean to keep you," he went on. "Just lettin' you know I'm outta here... and I was hopin' you would keep an eye on Sasha."

"Of course," she frowned.

"Not that she can't handle shit herself," he appended, "but she... you know how she is. She'd fist fight a nun if she thought she had reason to."

"Well... I do happen to have a bit of experience with someone like that," Michonne smirked, referring to Rick, "so I got you."

"I 'preciate it," he nodded, turning back for the door. "We oughta be back in a couple weeks."

"Be careful out there," she replied, walking him out.

"I'm plannin' on it," he finished, heading down the porch and up the block towards Aaron's.

She and Judith watched for a bit, taking in the beautiful June morning. A neighbor walking her dog, another planting flowers in his garden. The sun was high, but the weather was rather mild, which meant the day would probably end up nice, not too hot. She would have to remember to take Judith for a stroll later, once Carl headed off to class.

They continued to stand there, and Judy spoke her usual baby gibberish in Michonne's ear, but it was another conversation that managed to catch Michonne's eye. Jessie and Ron were standing on the sidewalk in front of their home, very obviously arguing about something. They weren't quite loud enough for her to hear, but she had a feeling it wasn't about a science experiment. She tried to look away, should've probably gone back inside, but she couldn't help but watch. At one point, Ron even pointed in the direction of her house, though neither of them seemed to actually notice her standing there, which she found curious. Between Pete's outright creepiness, and the fact that Jessie always seemed somewhat skittish, she knew that there was something afoot at the Anderson home. She just wasn't sure whether she wanted to find out what.

* * *

It was nearing noon when Rick walked into his home, where Michonne, Carl, and Judith were all sat at the dining table, enjoying a lunch of what looked to be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The three of them were laughing, likely at the youngest member of the family, as they often did, so he was hated to interrupt their moment. "Hello there," he grinned at the trio, throwing off his jacket as he moved across the room to join them.

"You're late," Carl informed him. He was just finishing off his sandwich as his dad entered the room. "I gotta leave for school soon."

"I know. I'm sorry," he conceded, taking a seat next to Judith, who'd made an absolute mess in the tray of her high chair. "It took a little longer than I had hoped to get though to Deanna, which threw off the rest of my morning."

Michonne glanced across the table at him, a bit worried by that news. "What did she say?"

"She just didn't want me to go," he shrugged. "She's concerned that it'll seem like she's letting me do whatever the hell I want."

She rolled her eyes, understanding that sentiment all too well. It was the same theory Dawn operated under. It was all about what it looked like. She slid him her plate, still containing half a sandwich as she asked, "So I'm guessing she relented since you're home already."

"She did," he confirmed. "She's not a fan of it, but I think she gets it, at least."

"Well, Dad, by the time you get back, Michonne and I will have our own biodiesel factory going," Carl declared proudly.

Rick looked to him in surprise as he stole a pear slice from Judith's plate. "Is that right?"

"It is."

He looked to Michonne for confirmation of what he could possibly be referring to. "Eugene had the kids make gas as a chemistry project," she explained for him. "And we have to wait to see what Eugene says, but... I'm pretty sure we kicked ass."

"And it uses everyday stuff like vegetable oil and Heet fuel. Stuff that's probably still just sitting around in a bunch of stores around town," Carl added excitedly. "We're gonna try it out on some of the dead cars today."

Rick nodded back at them, rather impressed, not only by their successful experiment, but with Eugene's ingenuity. If this worked, it would help the community tremendously, not having to search for gas constantly. "Well when you get home, you let me know how it went," he instructed. "And I'll add the supplies to our shopping list."

"You should get going," Michonne reminded Carl, noting the time on the clock. "I'll take care of your dishes."

"Thanks, Mom-," he had to stop to correct himself as he stood from the table, "I mean, Michonne." He smiled nervously as he gathered his backpack, then headed into the kitchen to pick up his science project. "See you guys later."

Rick and Michonne looked back at one another in amusement, having caught Carl's slip-up. Rick took another bite of his sandwich as he smirked at her. "I told you that would happen."

"You did." She could feel her face flush, and she realized she couldn't wait for some little person to call her Mom. She didn't want it to be Carl - she was a mother figure in his life, and she loved that position, but his mom was Lori, and they both seemed to understand that without it being said. And she wasn't sure what Judith would end up calling her - she wasn't sure that it mattered to her either way. But baby fever had hit her hard, and she wanted nothing more than another little Rick or mini Michonne to run after.

"What are you smiling about?" Rick couldn't help but grin in response to her infectious smile.

"Nothin'," she shrugged playfully. She took a bite of her own pear as she watched Rick lick strawberry jelly from his fingers. "What time do you get off work tonight?"

"I dunno," he simpered, catching onto to exactly what she was smiling about. "What time do you want me home?"

"You leave in the morning?"

"Yep..."

She nodded as she swallowed the last of her lunch. "You should come home early then."

* * *

It was barely 10:00pm when Rick retreated from the bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped only in a towel from the waist down. Without even trying to, Michonne managed to match his limited attire, lying in the middle of the bed, wearing only a pair of black panties. Her knees were raised, and her hands covered her supple breasts, mindlessly playing with her nipples as she waited for him to appear.

"Hey," she greeted him with a smirk.

His eyebrows quirked in pleasant surprise at the beautiful sight, wishing her hands were his own. "Hey," he breathed, kneeling on the bed. He let his hand rest on her left knee, pushing her legs apart. He licked his lips as he stared between her thighs, but he still didn't make a move.

"What are you waiting for," she wondered out loud. She could tell he wanted to dive in, but was holding back. He'd been holding back since they'd arrived to Alexandria, she felt, though she couldn't pinpoint why. They had sex, and it was always perfectly satisfying, but it wasn't the man she had gotten used to fucking back at the prison. The man that ravished her without hesitation.

He blinked, looking up from his daze. "Deciding whether I wanna do it, or if I want you to do it yourself," he finally answered.

Without a second thought, she slipped a finger inside her panties, exploring her already wet folds while her other hand continued to squeeze her erect nipples. "I want you to do it," she whispered.

He moved his hand over the fabric of her underwear, pushing her fingers further inside herself. He guided her around without even touching her, which drove her insane in both the right and wrong ways. He coerced her to massage herself gently, causing her entire body to contort in reply. She closed her eyes, moaning softly as she felt her juices cover her fingers, her breathing stuttering with her small orgasm.

Rick ran his hand up her stomach, finally moving in between her thighs so they were face to face now. He licked his lips once more at the sight of her soft breasts and their hard nipples, just inviting him to take a bite. But instead, he began to pull her panties down her legs, tenderly kissing at her thighs as he did. She tangled her fingers in his short curls, wishing he would move a little faster, have a little more urgency. He was so patient and loving, and it was endearing and sexy the first few times they had sex after their hiatus. But she wanted the down and dirty sex that made her walk a little funny after he was done. She wanted a fuck that would make her miss him every day that he was gone; that would make him hurry back to her.

"Rick," she called out quietly.

"Hmm?" he was still licking the inside of her thighs, slowly working his way upward.

"Hey," she said, a bit more forcefully now.

He stopped what he was doing and pulled up to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she promised, running her foot along the side of his torso. She used her toes to try and loosen his towel as she spoke. "I just... I'm in the mood for something a little more... more."

He looked down towards his waist, chuckling at the fact that her foot was succeeding at its task. "I don't know what that means," he answered, looking back up at her.

"It means I want you to be a little rougher, a little more intense. Like you used to be."

He rubbed at his eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb, avoiding her gaze. "You sure about that?"

"Of course I am," she frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean, after everything... I just..."

"Hey." She sat up, demanding his gaze as she held the side of his face. "I'm fine. Everything is fine. You don't have to treat me like some delicate flower. I'm a fucking diamond," she chuckled. "Remember?"

He smiled at her warmly. He did remember that. "I just didn't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"And I appreciate that," she nodded understandingly. "And that's what I want sometimes. And maybe that's what you want sometimes. But I can see you holding back, and I don't want you to." She pushed his wet curls from his face as she recalled the beginning of their relationship. "When we first got together, back in the tombs, you would fuck me like you couldn't get enough of me. It was ex-"

He cut into her sentence with a kiss, just as chaotic and intense as she was hoping for. He covered her gorgeous lips with his, consuming them, sucking at them until she granted him entrance inside her mouth. His tongue was everywhere, and she sucked the air from his lungs so hard, both of them felt like they couldn't breathe. This was exactly what she was looking for.

 _You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you  
_ _You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you_

As their tongues messily intertwined he whipped his towel from his waist, letting his hard dick spring free, rubbing against Michonne's thigh. He moved his kisses down her neck until he reached her chest, fervently sucking at her tits while she pushed her body into him, doing everything in her power to get closer to him.

He took her tiny frame into both of his hands and threw her onto the bed, causing her to giggle in surprise as they separated. She smiled in anticipation as she watched him stroke his cock, him looking her straight in the eye as he did. His gaze trailed downward and he inhaled sharply as he took her in. She was so beautiful that it didn't make sense to him. Her immaculate skin, her dangerous curves, that smile. This was the picture he would take with him when he left the next morning. But until then, he would fuck her like there was no tomorrow.

 _Help me tear down my reason, help me, it's your sex I can smell  
_ _Help me, you make me perfect, help me become somebody else  
_ _I wanna fuck you like an animal_

He moved between her thighs, hoisting her left leg over his shoulder as he penetrated her roughly, exhaling with pleasure at the feel of her pussy. She bit at her bottom lip as she took in every inch of him, loving the tightness as her walls clenched around him. They both grunted with every thrust he made, their bodies moving across the bed as he pounded into her faster and faster. She wrapped her other leg around his waist, her foot feeling the contractions of his ass as he moved. She tried to hold onto the headboard, but it had disappeared from her reach, so she clutched the sheets as she moaned his name.

"Rick..." she cried out quietly.

He responded with only his frantic breath as he fucked her even harder, turned on by the feel of her tits bouncing beneath him. He softly rubbed at her clit as her body began to shudder, and her head was hanging off of the edge of the bed, mirroring her oncoming climax. He was driving her out of her mind. He had given her exactly what she asked for - Rick Grimes in beast mode.

 _I wanna feel you from the inside  
_ _I wanna fuck you like an animal_

He lifted her body back onto the bed, and she positioned herself on all fours in front of him, knowing that was his favorite position, outside of her sitting directly on top of his face. He squeezed at her ass with his left hand as he used his right to guide the tip of his cock back into her. She was wetter than ever now and he pushed into her with ease, already feeling like he was on the edge of release. Holding onto her hips, he pounded her quickly, loving the sound of his body hitting hers, his balls slapping against her ass. It made him want to do this forever, even if he knew he couldn't. It was the only thing staving off his orgasm - concentrating on the sounds. He tapped her ass, enjoying the slight jiggle in response, but it only served to turn him on even more. That jiggle did him in every single time. He loved everything about her ass, but that was at the top of the list.

"Shit," he groaned out, not wanting to finish yet. He knew he would be useless once he did.

Michonne was holding onto those sheets for dear life as she felt her second orgasm wash over her body. "Rick," she whimpered again, wishing she could get out more words than that. Wishing she could express how good he really made her feel.

 _My whole existence is flawed  
_ _You get me closer to god_

Before she knew it, Rick had pulled her backwards and she was sitting on top of him, reverse cowgirl style. She smiled at the fact that she was in control now, pulling up so that she could lower herself back onto his dick, still hard as a rock as it slid into her once more. She began to roll her hips against him, and he gripped her cheeks in excitement, trying to hold out against the unbearable pleasure. He gazed up at her muscular back, shining with sweat as she arched it to work her pussy against his length. What a fucking view, he thought, dropping his stare back to her ass, so magnificently round. "You're perfect," he whispered, unsure whether she could hear him.

She did, and instead of responding, she went in for the kill and leaned over, holding his thighs to keep her steady as she began to seductively bounce her ass on top of him. He was done for within seconds, shooting into her forcefully, recklessly, with a loud grunt that he was unable to hold back. Her strokes slowed to a stop as she came once more, fondling her nipples as it overtook her body; as Rick held her waist, and she could feel their cum trickling off of her and onto him.

She tiredly fell back against him with a satisfied sigh, and he wrapped his arms around her sweaty body with his own happy smile. "Now that was a good goodbye," she exhaled again, too tired to move.

"Yes, it was." He absentmindedly moved his fingers in circles over her stomach as he attempted to recover from his high. "I'm sorry I've been holdin' back."

"Yeah, me too." As their breathing patterns returned to normal, she realized there was just _one_ thing missing that would've made their night absolutely perfect. "Can I tell you something a little fucked up?" she posed cautiously.

"Okay..." Rick answered, curious as to what she could possibly have to say. "Just don't ruin this," he joked.

She turned her head so that her cheek was flat against his chest, darting her eyes upward at him. She almost couldn't believe she was about to say these words, but she owed him her honesty. "I kinda miss the beard."


	5. Some People Have Real Problems

**5 – Some People Have Real Problems**

"All right, Judy, see if you can make it to me," Carl instructed cheerfully as he stood about five feet away from his baby sister.

The prison had fallen at an integral time in Judith's development, so she had been using her time at Alexandria to catch up on all the things she had missed out on while on the road. She was learning new things every day – she had already mastered standing, crawling, and drinking from a cup – and walking was the next item on her list.

Carl had been her fearless teacher when he had time, especially on weekends, so he was using that particular Saturday to give his sister as long a lesson as she wanted. He had also noticed Michonne wasn't up yet, which he found a bit curious, but figured she must have needed the rest, so he was happy to take care of Judy while she slept in.

He watched proudly as Judith confidently stood on her own two feet and made her way towards her big brother. A giant smile adorned both of their faces as she reached him without stumbling. "You did it," he exclaimed, stooping down to her level to offer a high five. "How badass are you?"

She gurgled happily at Carl, pulling at his hair as she spoke to him. That was her thing - other people's hair, and everyone in their family let her have at it. Everyone but Michonne. He picked her up, ready to grab some breakfast before they continued their walking lesson, but there was a hard knock on the door that startled both the Grimes kids. "Who is that?" he asked Judith curiously. "Who could that be?"

He went to the door to find Ron, Sam, and their mom standing in the window. Even behind the sheer curtain, he could tell something was wrong. The boys were looking down, and Jessie was obviously upset, maybe even crying. He immediately opened the door to let them in. "Hey," he greeted them warily.

"Hey, Carl," Jessie rigidly answered. "Is your mom home?"

"Umm, yeah," he nodded, allowing them into his home. "Is everything okay?"

"I just... I tried to find Deanna and she wasn't home. …Not that she's ever helped me anyway," she mumbled. "I wasn't sure where else to go."

Carl nodded again, figuring it probably wasn't his business one way or another. Still, he couldn't help but look to Ron sympathetically, figuring whatever was going on wasn't good. "I'll go get her," he assured them, making a beeline for the steps with Judith in his arms. He knocked lightly at Michonne's door, awaiting an answer. "Michonne," he called out softly.

She instantly shook from her slumber upon hearing Carl's knock, shocked to find the time on the clock showing 9:12. She typically woke up closer to 6:00 to get her day started, but somehow, the past couple of mornings had escaped her. She was tired now, all the time. She chalked it up to the fact that she was on her own with Rick gone, and handling all of the responsibilities she typically shared with him, but the feeling was still strange, all the same.

"I'm coming," she answered Carl groggily, rolling out of bed.

"We have a guest," he added.

Michonne frowned at that information, wondering who Carl would've considered a guest. She hoped it wasn't Deanna, as she was realizing she really didn't like that woman. She opened the door to let him into her room. "Who?"

"Jessie, with Ron and Sam," he whispered, as if they'd hear him from downstairs. "She looks really upset, and she said she didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Shit," Michonne sighed. She quickly grabbed one of Rick's t-shirts from their laundry pile to throw on over her tank top, as well as a random pair of jeans to cover her shorts before following Carl downstairs. Jessie and her kids were standing at the front door, all looking as if they'd lost their best friend. "Hey, guys," she tried to greet the three of them cheerfully.

"I'm so sorry about this," Jessie shook her head, looking up to see her neighbor and constable approaching. "Deanna wasn't home, and I wasn't sure what else to do."

Michonne took note of the red around Jessie's eyes and nodded at her warmly. "Carl, take Judith and the boys to your room," she instructed. "You guys watch a movie or something."

"Okay," Carl nodded, directing Sam and Ron to head upstairs ahead of him.

Michonne placed a soft hand on Jessie's back, not missing the way that she flinched as she coerced her toward their table so that they could speak in private. "What's going on?" she questioned as tenderly as she knew how. She had a pretty good idea now, but there was nothing she could do unless Jessie told her.

"I've been trying to avoid saying this again for months," she started, averting Michonne's gaze. She remembered the last time she had to say it, when she told Deanna, and how useless that had been. But in the few weeks they had been at Alexandria, Michonne and Rick and the rest of the people in their group had shown themselves to be strong, but kind; they relied on each other, they were there for one another. And so, Jessie had begun to think that maybe she wasn't stuck. Maybe, finally, she had someone that could help. "But I'm alienating my kids," she went on. "They're hurting, and I can't just ignore it anymore."

Michonne nodded, but didn't say anything, not wanting to scare her from continuing.

"Pete is... I mean, I know you've distanced yourself from us for a reason, and I can't blame you," she continued, swallowing hard. "He's… he's abusive. Emotionally, you've probably already picked up on that. But he's also been hitting me, I dunno on and off, for years now. It stopped for a long time, but it started again when we first got to Alexandria, and it seems to only be getting worse." She covered her face with her hand, hating how weak it made her sound. How helpless Pete had made her feel. But she had come for help, and she couldn't back down now. She lifted the tail of her tank top, showing a large, circular red mark on the bottom left side of her abdomen. "That was just last night. He usually doesn't leave a bruise, but I woke up this morning and saw that, and I just… I ran out of space for it," she nodded.

"I'm so sorry," Michonne whispered. She hated that she hadn't investigated sooner. Hadn't cared more. It was her job to see things like this, and she had been trying to avoid it, too busy being happy. "I'm so sorry."

"He's okay when he's not drinking, I guess," she smirked sadly. "I don't wanna make it sound like he's a full on awful person, but... I feel like it's getting worse, and I don't know what to do, Michonne."

She placed a hand over Jessie's, closing her eyes when she flinched again. It broke her heart that this woman lived in so much fear that she couldn't accept a tender touch. It reminded her of those women at Grady. "This isn't your fault," she reminded her seriously.

"It feels like it is," she answered, finally looking up at her. Tears slowly streamed down her face and she sniffled lightly. "My kids..."

"This is not your fault," she repeated. "He's the one that did this to you and your kids."

"I let them stay in that house, though. Ron wanted me to come to you the minute you got here, and I kept making excuses…"

"Jessie," Michonne called out to her. "We don't blame abuse victims for how they choose to survive. We focus on what it takes to fix this."

She nodded.

"What do you want to happen?" she questioned softly, trying to hold her gaze. "Best case scenario?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, shaking her head. "I mean, what can you do? Arrest him?"

"If I have to."

"When I told Deanna, she said that maybe I should just try to take it easy with him. 'Don't upset him.'"

Michonne instinctively snatched her hand back, in disbelief, in disgust that Deanna would offer that as a solution. "What?"

"He's the doctor," Jessie shrugged. "A surgeon. A part of me knew that that would be the response when I told her. And a part of me hoped..."

"That doesn't make his life any more valuable than yours," she nearly shouted. If she didn't like Deanna before, she was furious at her now. This was the type of shit that nearly got her killed back at Grady. A hierarchy of lives. "I'll handle Deanna then. But you aren't gonna be in a house with a man that doesn't respect you, much less is hurting you."

"I thought I could get through it," she sniffled again. "I thought, it's not so bad if I don't upset him. The kids love him." She shook her head at her rationalization of it. "But I see the way they look at him now, because I couldn't keep it hidden. I saw the way you guys left that night. The way Beth doesn't want to even work with him. It's like you guys got here and he doesn't even bother to control himself in public anymore. It's just constant drinking, then the yelling, then he comes after me, and it doesn't matter what I do. Whether I engage him or not, it's a fight. And I can't control it anymore. I can't pretend I can."

"Would you be okay with us taking him out of the house," she asked Jessie hopefully. "A sort of restraining order from you and the kids?"

"How would you ever enforce that?"

"We give him a chance to abide by it at first. And if he can't, I've got a group of extremely capable people that'll be willing to guard your home and make sure he stays away from you."

Jessie felt overcome with emotion at the thought of being able to walk around her house freely. To not sleep with one eye open, constantly worried Pete would pull her out of bed on one of his tirades. Being able to keep her kids safe. "Why would you guys do that for me?"

Michonne shook her head, surprised that she would be surprised by it. "Why wouldn't we?" And that was the difference between the Alexandrians and her own group. One was a community, the other was a family. And maybe it would take a while, but Michonne was quickly realizing that if they had any chance of success, it would be necessary to merge the two. "You said Deanna isn't home right now?"

"Reg said she and Abraham went out to the construction site for the morning."

"And where's Pete right now?"

"At home," she grimaced. "I told him we were going out to find some scraps for an art project, but he'll be expecting lunch in a couple of hours."

"Okay," Michonne nodded, thinking through her plan. "If you're okay with this, I can have Tyreese or Abraham escort him to a new house this afternoon. In the meantime, I'll square things away with Deanna, and I want you and Sam and Ron to stay put."

"Okay," she whispered, nodding in compliance.

Michonne quickly rose from her seat, preparing to head upstairs and find Carl and inform her of her plans for the day. But as she noticed more tears streaming down Jessie's face, she stopped to comfort her, tentatively placing her hand over hers once more. "You got through the hard part," she promised. "He's not gonna touch you again."

"I don't know what I expected when I came over here," she admitted, wiping at her face. "But thank you… for giving a shit. You'd make a much better leader than Deanna," she chuckled sadly.

She gave her hand a final squeeze and then went to find Carl.

* * *

"Michonne, I appreciate you," Deanna smiled fondly as she leaned forward in her chair. "You did your job exactly the way you should've. You came up with a solution, you came to talk to me about it…" She was nodding in approval. "We've got an empty space just next to the infirmary that he can take. More of an apartment, really."

"That's too close to Jessie," Michonne shot back, unimpressed with everything Deanna was saying. "And he won't need to be close to the infirmary, because he won't be anyone's doctor anymore."

"That's not an option," she shot back, turning stern in the blink of an eye. "If something happens out there, say Rick comes home with a broken leg…"

"Then I'll send him to Bob," she quipped. "He and Beth could take care of him just fine. I'm not sending him to that abuser."

"Alleged."

"So I guess Jessie punched herself in the stomach." Michonne took a deep breath, trying to keep her calm. She was finding that ever since leaving the prison, she had become increasingly quick-tempered. "We don't have to talk about how insane it is that you let Jessie stay in that house with that man solely so you don't lose your only doctor, but I'm not playing this game with you Deanna."

"I'm agreeing with you, Michonne."

"You're defending an abuser."

"I'm defending his right to have a life here, yes," she admitted. "I can't just send him away based on one person's testimony that he's been abusive."

"But did you even bother to investigate?" she demanded loudly. "Or did you turn the other way and tell that woman not to piss off a psychopath so you could keep your surgeon?"

"Michonne, calm down."

Her lip began to quiver with rage, and she did have to remind herself to calm down. As much as she _hated_ being told to calm down, she knew that losing her temper wouldn't help her get her point across. "Bob is our new doctor, effective immediately," she stated coolly. "Beth will continue to be our nurse. And if you need more hands than that, Maggie, Rosita, and Carol are very capable at first aid. Pete will be removed from his home and sent to the house next to Abraham's. He is not to have any contact with Jessie, Ron, or Sam unless _she_ says it's okay. And he should not consume any alcohol outside of community functions. Are we clear?"

"I don't answer to you," Deanna was frowning again, shaking her head. "You and your people don't seem to understand that."

"And you don't seem to understand that we're trying to help."

"No, I can see that. I know that you're good people, Michonne. But I don't know how many different ways I can tell you and your husband that you don't make the rules. And if you can't abide by them, then you can go."

Michonne stood from Deanna's couch, done with the conversation, and its mildly threatening undertone. This woman obviously had no concept of how easily her group could overtake Alexandria if they really wanted to. "I am gonna go," she said, walking herself to the door. "I'll let you know how it goes with Pete."

With that, she walked out of Deanna's home, where Carl was waiting with Judith on the patio. He glanced over to her, looking just like his father as he squinted from the sun. "How'd it go?"

"About as I expected," she admitted. Both of them stepped down from the porch, heading back in the direction of their home. "I'm gonna let Pete know that it's time to go," she told Carl. "I need you to go and get Abraham for me, and then you can head back home. Maggie said she wanted to try out a cake recipe on you."

"Okay," he nodded, though he somewhat wished he could witness what was sure to be a commotion at the Anderson home. "Be careful, okay?"

"I promise I will," she smiled over at him. "Thank you for helping out today with Ron and Sam."

"Least I could do," he shrugged. "I'm sure you wish Dad was here to help."

"You know, I'm actually a little relieved that he missed it," she chuckled at him. "He already doesn't like Pete or Deanna. Adding this to the equation, I'm not sure how he would've reacted."

"That's true," Carl laughed back. "Even at, like, his most chill setting, he has no problem knocking someone's teeth out."

"And at his least chill setting, he'll use his own teeth with deadly force," she shook her head playfully. It was then she realized she was starting to really miss Rick and all his many shades of crazy. "Hopefully, by the time he gets back, this will all be resolved and we won't even have to tell him why Pete's in a different house."

"Yeah, right. You tell my dad everything."

"For your information, I do not tell him _everything_ ," she shot back, pretending to be offended by the notion. "I didn't tell him about Enid."

"Well that's because we pinky swore," he knew. He stopped along with Michonne, just in front of the Andersons' walkway. "You coming home right after this?"

She was expecting a bit of an argument from Pete, so she wasn't sure how long she would be, but she nodded as she softly caressed Judith's cheek. "Hopefully, within the hour."

Carl nodded, heading off to find Abraham, while Michonne trudged up the steps to Pete's home, preparing to escort him out of it. She ran her hand along her back to make sure her stealth gun was still in place in her waistband before knocking at the door.

After a few minutes, Pete came to the door, drenched in the smell of beer, and it was a wonder he hadn't run out at that point. He smiled at the beautiful sight of Michonne gracing his doorstep. "Well hey there," he greeted her in surprise. "Never thought I'd see you standing here again."

"Hey, Pete," she answered dryly, having thought the same. "You busy?"

"Not at all." He opened the door wider to allow her inside. "You're not here to tell me my wife's dead, are ya?" he joked.

"What?" Michonne frowned.

"I'm kidding," he laughed awkwardly. "She just… I haven't seen her all day. It was a joke."

"Listen," she began, not wanting to get too far into his home. She made sure to stay in the foyer so she could see Abe's approach. Or to make a quick getaway if she needed to. "Jessie told me what's been going on. And there's not a whole lot I can do as far as arresting you or putting you on trial," she admitted, "but we both think it's best if you two live in separate houses for a while."

Pete looked at her as if she were telling a confusing riddle. "What?"

"We've got a house for you down the street. It's all furnished and ready to go. You can come and go as you please, but you cannot see Jessie or Ron and Sam unless she says that it's okay."

"What the fuck is this?" he chuckled. "You think you're gonna walk into my house, take my wife and kids away?"

"This is what she's asked me to do," she continued calmly. "She doesn't feel safe with you, and this is our best option, for the time being."

"I need to talk to Jessie then. This is ridiculous."

"That's not gonna happen."

"So I'm supposed to just leave? Just move into some new house? And what? Be alone?"

"Maybe you should be alone," she offered gently. "Take some time to dry out. You don't need to be the town doctor anymore, you don't need to be a husband right now. Stop with the alcohol, take some time to figure out who it is you think you should be. Who you could be. This isn't the end of the road, Pete. I'm not gonna let you hurt your wife anymore, and maybe this is the end of your marriage, but… you've got a lot of life left to live. You need to decide what you're gonna do with it."

"This is unbelievable," he scoffed, taking a few steps back from her. "Deanna's not gonna go along with this."

"Deanna agrees with me."

"You can't just take my kids away. There may not be laws anymore, but there's no way that's fair."

"Until they express an interest in seeing you, and Jessie feels comfortable with it, that's what's happening, Pete."

His blue eyes flashed with anger, and he moved closer to Michonne now. "And what if I say no?"

"Then I've got my buddy Abraham coming by to forcibly remove you," she informed him, stepping back towards the door. "Though I'm hoping it doesn't come to that…"

"That's the big black guy, huh?"

"The big white guy," she quipped.

He nodded at the way she seemed to think she was so in control of the situation. "This is a far cry from the woman who wouldn't even look me in the eye last week."

"I'm doing my job," she reminded him, doing everything in her power to remain cool. Her instincts were telling her that he wasn't going to take this lying down. The easiest option would've been to just shoot him in the head right then and there. But they were trying to rebuild civilization, and that would have been counterproductive, to say the least. She needed to handle this one by the book. "So what's it gonna be, Pete?"

He exhaled sharply, and turned back towards his home, annoyed that it was suddenly being taken from him. That Jessie had blindsided him. "You know what," he nodded, holding up his hands in surrender. "If Jess thinks this is what she wants, then I'll play along. And we'll just see how long she lasts without me."

"It's amazing that after all you've put this woman through, you still don't know how strong she is," Michonne shot back, shaking her head at the pitiful man in front of her. "I suggest you get everything you need now, because you won't be allowed to set foot back in this house if I have anything to do with it."

* * *

"Jesus," Glenn winced as he and Rick pulled up to the parking lot of their second Costco in four days. The scene was brutal, indeed – hundreds of walkers lying lifeless in the asphalt, their heads separated from their bodies, uselessly snapping at the air. He looked over to Rick, who had smartly stopped the van before they reached the pileup. "How the hell…"

"Could be some kinda trap set up," Rick noted, peering towards the large building, unsuccessfully trying to get a read on things. "Can't imagine this all happened at once."

"But to what end?"

Rick looked back at Glenn now, feeling just as clueless as he did. He shook his head in defeat. "I dunno. But the last place was a bust, so we've gotta at least check to see what we can find in here."

"I kinda doubt it'll be much better than the last one."

"Well, let's hope you're wrong," Rick returned, shutting off the car. In their few days on the road, they had crossed state lines into Maryland, and come away with a decent haul of food, and baby supplies, just rummaging through empty homes. But they had yet to find a sufficient stock of bulk items to bring back to their community. So the two of them grabbed their AKs and carefully piled out of the van.

"You gotta admit, it's kind of impressive," Glenn commented as they sidestepped the throngs of decapitated walkers.

"It is," Rick could concede, his eyes still intently focused on the door. "I don't know what kinda trap does this much damage, but it's most certainly worth noting." As they moved closer, he realized the entrance was wide open, which didn't bode well for their chances of the store being well-stocked. "I think this might be another vegetable oil and Drano haul," he submitted in defeat.

"Yeah, we may have to get further away from the cities to find anything significant in one of these stores," Glenn agreed.

"We've got a map," he said, looking back towards the car. "Maybe we head into rural Virginia, see what's there."

"You think we can make that trip in four days?"

"I'm countin' on three," Rick smirked, wanting nothing more than to get back home to Michonne and the kids. "But let's see what's in here first."

Back to back, the two of them cautiously entered the giant warehouse with their guns and flashlights drawn, only to be met with a sign confirming their suspicions. The fenced in entryway contained a bright yellow poster with big block lettering: _ALL FUCKING CLEAR_.

"And here's where we get killed," Glenn noted wryly, as Rick peeked around the corner to see inside the store. Indeed, every visible shelf was empty, and that was all he needed to know.

"Let's go," he directed Glenn, already heading out. Having scared themselves into thinking they really were in a trap, the duo made a quick exit for their vehicle, Rick settling into the passenger side, while Glenn took the driver's seat.

"So I guess we head back to Virginia?"

Rick nodded as he pulled their map from the glove compartment and began to study it closely. "Charlottesville sound good to you?"

Glenn started the car with a shrug and sigh. "Charlottesville, it is."

As they made their way toward the exit, another message caught their eye, this time in the form of graffiti decorating the back of the Costco sign. _CURTESY OF YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SAVIORS._

Glenn stopped the car once more, staring at the sign, while Rick gazed back at the scene of the store, to see if he could spot anyone. "Why do I get the feeling that 'friendly' and 'saviors' is being used ironically here?"

Rick looked back at his friend and copilot, having that same ominous feeling. By all accounts, the people that did this actually were helpful – they had dispatched a herd of walkers, and left signs to state that the store was empty, and there was no reason to waste time searching inside. But something felt odd, and it just seemed inevitable that these people, whoever they were, weren't quite as benevolent as their sign would suggest. "We should go home," Rick noted, a bit distracted by the view behind them.

"Really?" Glenn frowned. "If they haven't found us yet, they probably won't within a couple of days."

He nodded, knowing that Glenn was probably right about that. This group could've already been dead, for all they knew. But he had learned in Atlanta not to take chances with the lives that mattered to him, no matter how slim those chances were. "We can come back out if everything's fine, but I have to make sure they're okay."

Glenn had also learned the depths that Rick would go to protect Michonne and his kids, so he wasn't going to be the one to argue. "Back to Alexandria then."

* * *

 **A/N** : Not super exciting I know, but I definitely wanted to change the way that whole situation was handled with Pete and Jessie. Hopefully it's a little less cringeworthy this way, haha. And if you read the comic books, I'm sure you know who The Saviors are, so... yeah. Things are happening!

I just wanna say, I love you guys' reviews soooo much. They seriously crack me up. Also, one of you guys have already accurately predicted some goings-on in the next chapter, and I'm kinda really excited to write it. I think, lol. I know there was no Richonne in this one, and I'm sorry, but I will make up for it soon! -Ash


	6. Don't Think I'm Just His Little Wife

**6 – Don't Think I'm Just His Little Wife**

Michonne stood on Carol's porch with Judith in her arms, the two of them making silly faces at one another as they waited for their friend to come to the door.

"Michonne!" a familiar voice called out to her from up the street.

She turned to the sound, seeing Carol walking towards her briskly, with Sam at her side, and she realized that they must have just been getting out of class for the morning. "Am I early?" she grinned back as the two of them got closer.

"I'm late," Carol shook her head, reaching her own home. "We had a bit of a 'situation,'" she added cryptically, gesturing towards Sam.

"My dad showed up to pick me up," Sam explained to Michonne, his grim tone contrasting his typically cheerful expression. "I would've just gone with him, but Ms. P said not to, and told him to go home."

Michonne exhaled deeply, shaking her head at the news. It hadn't even been a day, and Pete was trying it. And she couldn't even be surprised, as she knew his surrender had been too easy. "Well, Ms. P was right," she told him with a smile, then looked up to Carol. "Thank you."

"You know I understand," she shrugged. "In fact, I can easily take on a couple of shifts guarding Jessie's house if you need me to."

"I think I probably will," she sighed again. She started to hand over Judith's bag, full of diapers and a change of clothing, and her favorite toy, the iPad. "In the meantime, thank you for taking her."

"You know it's no problem." She took the bag and then Judith, smiling at the infant who'd been growing like a little weed. "We're gonna need a daycare around here soon, between this one and Sasha, and most likely, Maggie."

Michonne's eyes widened happily at the news. "Really?"

"I made out the final list that Rick and Glenn ended up taking with them. Maggie asked me to add a pregnancy test."

"That's so good to hear," she grinned genuinely. "It seemed like they were thinking about it back at the prison when everything happened…"

"You seem to be doing well with this one and Carl," Carol noted with a smirk. "'Mommy' looks good on you, Michonne."

"Oh god, it's funny to hear you say that. Because I feel exhausted _all_ the time," she shook her head. "I'm really lucky that Carl is so self-sufficient, because this one is a handful," she joked, playfully poking at Judith's tummy. Both of them giggled in response.

"Well, you don't look it," she offered, glancing down at the child. "I don't know how Judith would feel about being away from you for more than a few hours, but you let me know if you need her to spend the night over here."

"Oh no, she's fine," she said, waving off her silliness. "Besides, I'm the one who wouldn't get through the night without her."

"I bet," Carol grinned. "But just think about it. Sasha could probably use the distraction. Maybe it'd finally get her outta that guard tower…"

Michonne frowned at the information, as she had specifically requested that Sasha be put on shorter shifts with the weather getting warmer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean some nights, she doesn't come home. And when she does, it's usually late... I'm not sure whether she came in while I was at school," she submitted, looking up to the home they shared. "But I doubt it."

She exhaled in frustration as she glanced at Sam. "I should get him home, " she nodded, figuring Jessie was probably back from work by now as well. "I was headed to meet up with Sasha for a shooting lesson; I'll see if I can figure out what's going on with her."

"I'll see you at six?" Carol guessed, as that was the time she had picked up Judith a couple of days prior.

"If not me, then Carl," she nodded. She grabbed Judith's foot and gave it a kiss before heading off with Sam. "I'll see you later, Cutie."

"See you tomorrow, Ms. P," the kid waved back at his teacher. And as he and Michonne made their way down the block towards his home, he looked up at her questioningly. "Can I ask you something, Mrs. Grimes?"

"Sure," she smiled at him, though her focus was more on Sasha now.

"So Carl knows how to shoot a gun, right?"

"He does," she confirmed, already a bit wary of where his question was headed.

"So when he goes outside the gates, he can just ask for one, and they'll give it to him?"

"He's not supposed to go out of the gates without an adult, but… yes. He learned how to responsibly use a gun when he was about your age, I'd say."

"Did you teach him?" he questioned excitedly.

"No," she chuckled. "If anything, he's taught me a couple of things to sharpen my aim."

"Really?"

"Why are you asking about guns, Sam?"

"I just think it would be cool to know how to use one," he shrugged. "I could kill walkers, protect my mom. I could help you and Mr. Grimes protect the whole community."

She smiled back at him warmly and rested her hand on his shoulder as they turned the corner up to his home. "That's sweet of you," she assured him. "And truthfully, everyone here should probably know how to handle a gun. But that's something we'll have to talk to your mom about first."

"It's never good when you see your son being escorted home by the police," Jessie proclaimed a bit nervously from her doorway. "What happened?"

"Apparently, Pete went by the school house to pick up Sam after class let out," Michonne told her in a deliberately even tone. "Carol wouldn't let him go, but I can imagine that won't be the last we see of him."

Jessie nodded, obviously worried by their plan now. She had very much enjoyed her day of freedom in the house with just her boys, but it seemed that would be a short-lived dream. "Well that was fun while it lasted."

"Jessie, this isn't over," she promised. "I'll go talk to him one more time, but everyone is well aware of the consequences if he doesn't follow the terms."

"He obviously doesn't care," she scoffed. "Sam, go inside, sweetie."

He nodded, and waved back at Michonne as he headed up his steps. "Thanks, Mrs. G."

"See ya later," she smiled back at him. Her gaze then fell to Jessie, sympathetically. "I know this is discouraging. I know this is scary. But don't give up on me, Jessie. Not when I'm still fighting for you."

"What if Carol hadn't been there? He just takes Sam? And it's another fight?"

"Maybe so," Michonne admitted. "Maybe he won't be happy until he's locked in a padded room. I don't know. But this is just the beginning of fixing this problem. Not the end."

She nodded again, her expression softening. As frustrated as she might have been with Pete, she couldn't ignore how much she appreciated the effort that her constable had put into protecting her. "Do you wanna come in for some coffee or something? I just got back from my shift, but I can start some lunch..."

"No, no," she declined with a polite smile. "I was due outside the gates a few minutes ago.

"Okay," she nodded. "Well, thank you for bringing Sam home. Thank you for everything."

"Stop thanking me. I would do this for anyone." She gave her one last parting smile before taking off towards the guard tower.

* * *

"Sasha, you need to go home," Michonne said, examining the state of the guard tower. A bed made of blankets and comforters, complete with a pillow; a collection of canned food, some empty, some untouched; her mp3 player sat on a chair near the window. For all intents and purposes, it looked as though Sasha had moved in there.

"Go home to what?" Sasha shook her head in confusion. "For what?"

"What are you even doing out here? Other than making a mess."

"I'm protecting our community," she answered as if it should have been obvious. "You wouldn't believe the number of walkers I've killed, just since last night."

"Okay, but you don't think you need a break? You're supposed to be splitting your shifts with Spencer and Holly. Even Tara can help while she's around."

"Have you seen Spencer shoot a gun?" she chuckled sarcastically. "He couldn't hit Big Foot from fifty feet."

"Deanna said he was a good shot."

Sasha glanced back at her knowingly, relaying just how silly that statement was, and she knew Michonne knew it.

"Yeah, no, I take that back," she quickly nodded with a laugh. "But still, you can't strain yourself like this."

"It's not a strain," Sasha promised excitedly. "This is what I like to do. I mean, it's weird, because I started out doing it for The Governor, but... that's where I learned that I was good at it. I'm enjoying this."

"And I'm happy for you," she assured her. "But you are growing a person inside your body, and that fatigues you, Sasha. You need eight hours of sleep. Preferably in your bed. Especially after you spend half your day in this hot box, shooting at dead things."

"I get what you're saying, Michonne. But I feel fine," she smiled. "I feel great. And I don't wanna sit at home 'resting,' when I could be doing this. When I should be doing this. I'm the only one who's good at it."

"Well you could train the others..." she offered diplomatically, a small sigh escaping her lips. She had promised Daryl she would keep Sasha out of the tower all the time, but he obviously knew that was much easier said than done. "I can't let you do this twenty-four-seven."

"Listen, I understand that you're trying to help," Sasha returned calmly, "but I'd much rather be out here helping than go home to that empty bed every night."

"Okay..." Michonne could understand that sentiment. Being there without Rick certainly wasn't her favorite thing in the world, and she could see why it would bother Sasha. She didn't have kids running around like she did, which was a good distraction from the temporary loneliness. "How about if I get you the night shift," she suggested. "You sleep in the mornings, in the evenings, the house is full and lively. Then at night, you can be out here doing something you like. Maybe that'll make it easier not to miss him?"

She smiled softly, appreciating the offer. "I know you must think I sound insane," she chuckled. "But it's just... the nights are lonely," she confirmed.

"I know," Michonne promised that she understood. "After all this time, us being in close quarters, you seeing him every day... it is a strange feeling to go to sleep alone. I get it."

"Thank you," she grinned, glad to know that Michonne related to her on some level.

"I'll let Deanna know," she nodded.

Sasha went back to her post, where she had her rifle set up in the window, checking out the perimeter. "So I know you didn't come up here to listen to me whine. We should get started on our lesson."

* * *

Michonne's day was finally winding down, though her adrenaline was pumping, having spent the better half of her afternoon taking down walkers from afar. She could understand why Sasha spent so much time in that guard tower. Her job was actually fun. The likelihood of losing your life was so much lower from 500 feet away. It was like playing a video game all day.

"You're a good instructor," Michonne declared to Sasha as she prepared to leave. "You should really consider using your powers for good and taking on Spencer and Holly."

"I don't like wasting my time," she shook her head, her eyebrows raised in warning.

Michonne hadn't spent a ton of time with Sasha, other than a few runs back at the prison, but in their afternoon together, she already felt like she had a better handle on the woman her best buddy had fallen in love with. "I get that. But I'm thinking about what happens six months down the road and you're too pregnant to care what's going on out here."

"That's not gonna happen," she chuckled lightly at her.

"Trust me. In the dead of winter, you're not gonna wanna lug a fifteen pound bowling ball attached to your stomach out here. So, if for no other reason, let's start thinking about your maternity leave?"

"God," Sasha sighed exaggeratedly, pretending to be annoyed. "You and Rick, I swear. Y'all are made for each other."

Michonne grabbed her jacket and bottle of water as she laughed back at her. "Why do you say that?"

"I have never seen two people so good at making people do shit they don't wanna do."

Michonne smiled in amusement as she shook her head. "I'm gonna come by tomorrow morning, Sasha. You better be at home."

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded back to her.

With that, Michonne headed back to solid ground and towards the gates of Alexandria. She couldn't wait to get home to the kids, eat some dinner, and maybe play a game of Scrabble with Carl. She figured Rick would be home any day now, which made her smile as she strolled down the streets. She waved to her neighbors, on their porches, enjoying the approaching summer evening. She stopped to chat with Reg for just a moment, to tell him that Spencer would be getting some shooting lessons soon. As she passed Jessie's, she could see a balloon floating into the air, could hear the faint sound of laughter, and figured she and Sam were likely in their backyard. Things were going well, by all accounts, and she felt a bit proud of herself for it. She just had to get through with lecturing Pete and the day would be another successful one.

She made it past her home and those of everyone else she loved, approaching Pete's with a sense of dread washing over her. She knew he wouldn't make things easy, but she was wary of just how difficult they would be. Just the fact that he made her wait a full two minutes after knocking spoke volumes to their impending exchange.

He came to the door looking disheveled, as though he'd been on his own for a month as opposed to a day. He frowned at the sight of Michonne now. "Which of your rules have I broken now?"

"Carol told me you showed up to pick up Sam this morning," she responded, trying not to roll her eyes. Instead, she avoided his gaze and looked out to the rest of the neighborhood. "That's not part of the deal."

"Yeah, well I got the raw end of that deal, I realized last night. You got Jess set up all happy in _my_ house, with _my_ kids. What do I get?"

"With the way this has played out, you get a chance," she said. She looked back at him now, wanting to let him know that he didn't have to be the perpetual bad guy. He didn't have to be public enemy. "You get to do whatever you want, so long as it doesn't involve them."

"Oh, so that means I can finally have you?"

She visibly cringed as she stepped back from him. "You really wanna make this difficult, huh?"

"You're the one that turned my life upside down. The least you could do is make it up to me."

The insinuation that she owed him anything, much less some kind of sexual favor, had her blood already boiling. "Maybe I should inform you now that I killed the last guy that tried to sexually assault me."

"You can't make threats like that anymore," he chuckled mockingly. "We're civilized in here."

"I'm being much more civil than you deserve," she quipped. "After what you did to your wife? You're lucky I haven't killed you on principle."

"You know, I'm still not even sure how it's any of your business. Or why you care so much what happens to her."

Her eyes narrowed on him, confused as to why caring was such a novelty to these people. "Because I'm a decent human being."

"You need to stay in your lane."

"Well how about this," she submitted, moving closer to him now with a menacing confidence. "I'm the constable. I protect and serve. I'm in my lane."

"You're a woman, wearing tight pants and a police shirt as a fashion statement," he rolled his eyes. He turned back into his home, as if to dismiss her from the conversation.

Michonne watched with ire in her eyes as he turned his back to her, and her hand instinctively went to the back of her waistband, where she kept her gun. She could shoot him in the back of the head right there and this would all be over with. Instead, she let her hand fall back to her side and took a deep breath. "I understand that you're used to doing whatever the hell you want," she spoke evenly as she followed after him. "You scared the shit out of your wife, Deanna turned a blind eye. And maybe you think, since I'm just a woman making a fashion statement, that I won't kill you, but I need you to understand that it's taking every ounce of my self control not to." Michonne was provoking him, she knew. She didn't care. He was similar in size to The Governor, so she figured she could take him if she really had to. It wasn't like she couldn't take a hit. Grady had more than proven she could. Perhaps, with some luck, she take Pete's eye out, too.

Predictably, Pete responded with a violent outburst, wrapping his hand around her neck and pushing her against the foyer wall. "Stop threatening me," he said through gritted teeth.

She closed her eyes, a bit shocked by the strength of his grip, and tried to make her body relax. But she couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked in a low growl. "I tried to be nice to you, didn't I? I invite you to my home, try to be your fucking friend. You repel me like some disgusting animal, and then you take everything in my life away?"

His stale breath was on her cheek, causing her to only grimace in response. Her palms were sweating, the room was beginning to spin. It was time for fight or flight. She kneed him in the groin as hard as she could, relieved when he released his grip as he stumbled backwards. She coughed, trying to regain normal breathing as she also fumbled for her gun. But before she could do both, Pete turned back to her with a glare of death in his eyes – a look she imagined Jessie had seen many times before, and she understood her terror. This man was frightening. And like Gorman, like Philip Blake, before him, he made no hesitation of coming for Michonne.

He attempted to grab her neck again, for easiest control, but could only hold onto her jaw, his fingers inadvertently going into her mouth. She tried to push back, punching furiously at his chest as her head slammed into the wall. The span of his hand covered her face, harshly pushing her against the hard surface, but that didn't stop her from grabbing at him, trying to pull him closer. She clawed at his throat, at his cheeks, tore at his shirt, using her hands as her only guide. She couldn't see, she could only feel. She bit at his fingers that had been grazing her teeth, and he flung her across the foyer towards the front door.

Michonne fell to the floor, but she quickly recovered and picked up a large bowl, that had been sitting on top of a nearby stand, throwing it directly at his face. That gave her enough time to pull herself up, pull a small drawer from the same stand, and lunge toward Pete with it. She struck him several times in the head, in the face, but he managed to push her to the floor once again, sending her sprawling back towards the entryway. There was a loud clunk to follow, and both of them watched as her pistol went spinning past her, having fallen out of her makeshift holster.

Pete made a dive for it, at the same time Michonne began to crawl towards it, the two of them halfway in, halfway out of his home. He attempted to pull her into a headlock to keep her away from it, but she elbowed him in the chest hard enough for him to loosen his grip. She then began to punch him in the groin repeatedly until he let go. Briefly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed her into the door frame, face first, causing her nose to bleed. She knew it wasn't the first of her injuries, but seeing that he'd drawn blood had her incensed.

She turned back towards him, bumbling for wherever the gun had gone beneath their fight, and she commenced to hitting him in the face. She had already done visible damage, but she wanted to make him bleed. Her fist went across his nose, and she heard the crack of his bones on contact. He backhanded her, hard, and her vision blurred. Her ears were ringing. Michonne did a quick calculation in her head, of the people that lived within screaming distance, that would've been home. The list was short – Tara. As blood began to run down her face, she called as loudly as she could for her friend. "Tara!"

Still looking for the gun, Pete roughly punched her in the back in an attempt to move her. "Screaming for help," he mumbled. "Typical."

"The help is for you," she shot back, wiping at her nose. She spotted the gun on the other side of the door, just behind Pete, and she elbowed him in the face once more so that she could crawl over him to grab it. As soon as she felt the cool steel in her hands, she unsteadily stood to her feet and pointed the pistol at Pete's head. "TARA!" she yelled again.

It was a blessing and a curse that they were at the empty end of Alexandria. There was no one to see and hear them. And if she stood there too much longer with that man, she would kill him. It was a wonder she hadn't just pulled the trigger already.

"You're not gonna kill me," he said knowingly, staring out to the empty street. "Because you know the minute you do, you're gone."

While he was somewhat right about that, she still wasn't above putting a bullet in his brain. "Shut the fuck up." She was so angry, tears were running down her face, the saltiness stinging at her wounds. She screamed in frustration. They had supposedly found civilization, a safe space, and she was still fighting? Would the fight ever end?

Footsteps had approached, and an out of breath Tara appeared on the sidewalk, thankful that she had found where the yells for her were coming from. "Oh, my god," she exclaimed, upon seeing Michonne's bloodied face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Michonne said calmly, though her voice was quivering. "I need you to go get Deanna."

She glanced briefly at Pete, who looked like he'd thoroughly gotten his ass kicked, and then at the gun Michonne was holding, and nodded. "Okay," she said. "Don't do anything crazy."

"Just hurry." She exhaled shakily, thankful that help was on its way, even if she dreaded the form it was coming in.

As the two of them waited, in silent tension, the sound of voices began to fill the air. Footsteps, running. Noah was the first to appear, with his two little brothers just behind him. Then Beth, along with Nicholas, Carl's friends, Mikey and Enid. They came to find out what was going on, all seemingly shocked when they got their answer.

"Tara went running by, said you needed help," Noah announced for the small crowd. The crowd that was growing by the second. "What the hell did he do to you?"

"I'm the one sitting here at gunpoint," Pete interjected angrily.

"I told you to shut up," Michonne remarked to him sternly. She looked up at Noah and shook her head. "I'm fine," she promised. She glanced at Beth, who looked worried sick. "I really am."

Noah nodded back at her, halfway smiling at the fact that Michonne never failed to live up to her nickname. "Once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker, huh?"

"Pieces of shit seem to follow me everywhere I go," she shrugged, glaring back at Pete.

The crowd continued to grow, Michonne's injuries seemed to be taking their toll – her face hurt, her ribs hurt, her head was pounding – and Deanna was taking her sweet time getting back there. Bob managed to make it to her, first aid kit and all. Ron showed up, clearly disappointed to see that his father had claimed another victim.

"Deanna's comin'," Beth declared, glancing down the street. Deanna, Reg, and Spencer, more precisely, along with Tara, and then Carl. "Carl, too," she added.

"Shit," Michonne rolled her eyes in frustration. She never wanted Carl to see her like this again.

"Michonne, put the gun down," Deanna was demanding before she had even reached the scene.

She didn't bother to respond, annoyed with her for trying to assess a situation before she could even see it. This woman was Dawn Lerner 2.0.

When she came into view, her face contorted into horror as she realized how bad their fight actually was. Both of them looked like they'd been through hell, but Pete was bleeding nearly everywhere – his nose, his cheeks all scratched up, his forehead. "Jesus," Deanna frowned. She glared back at a very disheveled Michonne and shook her head. She could literally see her anger. "Please put the gun down."

"Or what?" Michonne shot back at her menacingly. She could tell she had already taken Pete's side in this, somehow. She pointed the gun towards Deanna, causing some of the other Alexandrians to gasp. Spencer moved to stand in front of his parents. "You gonna kick me out?" she taunted. She put her aim back on Pete, but didn't take her eyes off of Deanna. "You couldn't kick him out, but you're gonna kick me out?"

"Please, just put the gun down, so we can talk."

"I'm done talking." Carl came into view from between Noah and Beth, and his eyes widened in shock. Her gaze immediately softened at the sight of him. "Carl…"

He ran up the steps to her, worried and angry as he wrapped his arms around her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she promised, running her fingers through his hair. His hug hurt, but she didn't care. "I'm fine."

Deanna cautiously moved towards the steps of Pete's porch, desperately wanting to alleviate the situation. "What can I do, Michonne?"

Carl stepped out of the way so that Michonne could address their leader. He knew she would have words for her. "Don't fucking talk to me like I'm the crazy one," Michonne said, moving closer to Pete with her gun. "You need to _fix_ this. He cannot roam free."

"Okay," she nodded. "But I still need you to put that down."

"You still don't get it!" She directed her gun back at Deanna, stopping the woman in her tracks. "I am not the problem! This gun is not the problem!"

"Well you keep pointing it at me, which tells me otherwise."

"Because you're focusing on the wrong thing!" She wiped at her face, full of blood and tears, and shook her head. "You show up at a crime scene, seeing exactly what he's done, and the only thing you're worried about is the gun in my hand. It's all about what it looks like with you."

"Michonne," Noah called out to her, stepping onto the porch and past Deanna. He understood her anger, probably better than anyone out there. He had lived it for a year. "This isn't Grady," he reminded her softly.

"Noah, you should stay back," Deanna told him.

"She's not gonna shoot me," he rolled his eyes, continuing to move towards his friend. "Deanna may have her flaws, but she isn't Dawn."

"She is," she nodded back at him. "She let this man beat his wife, without consequence, and now she's standing here berating me for doing something about it."

"But we don't live here in fear. We don't have to work to pay off some invisible debt. We aren't slaves," he said. "Pete is the bad guy. That's it."

Michonne's eyes continued to fill with tears as she processed his words. She tried to shake them away, taking a deep breath as she stared back at Deanna, looking lost as ever. Perhaps she reminded her of Dawn because she was so clueless. Maybe she wasn't as bad as she made her out to be. Reluctantly, she lowered her weapon, handing it to Noah. "Either you do something about him," she told Deanna, "or I put a knife in the base of his skull."

* * *

 **A/N:** Next chapter, we'll pick up not far from here… with Rick coming home. Dun dun dunnnnn! -Ash


	7. Don't Let The Necessary Occur

**A/N:** You guys are amazing. Seriously. What an incredible response to the last chapter. I really wanted the ladies to get their due, and particularly, Michonne, of course, so I was really relieved to see that you guys enjoyed it. Especially because writing action pretty much terrifies me, and this story has a lot of it, so it's just really reassuring that you guys have my back. I LOVE YOU. (By the way, hello to all the new faces and names that I've never seen before. I hope you continue to enjoy!) The next chapter is already about half done, so hopefully, I can have it to you sooner than later! If I keep up this once a week business, I'll be writing this story for a year, lol. Now excuse me while I go cry from how awesome y'all are. – Ash

* * *

 **7 – And I Do Anything Necessary For Her, So Don't Let The Necessary Occur**

Darkness had settled over the city, but Alexandria was still reeling over the fight between Michonne and Pete. He had been escorted to a small apartment near the front of the Safe Zone, while Spencer and Aiden took turns guarding him. Meanwhile, Carol and Tyreese took over at the Grimes home, watching over Carl and Judith while Michonne was interrogated by Deanna. She and Maggie sat on the Monroes' patio, along with Deanna and Reg, discussing the day's events, including everything that led up to them.

"Michonne, I know you think this doesn't matter," Deanna started, "but I need to know how you got the gun."

Michonne pulled the ice pack from her throbbing face and stared at Deanna coldly. "I stole it."

"How?"

She wanted to ask why it mattered, just to make Deanna's life a bit more difficult, but she decided to just get on with it. "I went to the pantry one morning to talk to Olivia; distract her for a bit. Opened the pantry window while I was there. Later that night, I snuck in through the window and picked out one I liked."

"Just the one?"

"Yes," she decided to lie, not wanting to bring Sasha or Rick into the fold. "With Rick gone, I wanted some kind of protection. Just in case."

"And you didn't feel that you could ask me?"

"No, I didn't," she said truthfully this time. "I don't trust you, Deanna. I don't trust that you have any clue what you're doing, or that you understand anything about what life is like now."

Reg could see Michonne's hand shaking, and he gently placed his over hers. "I understand why you're angry," he promised her. "What's happened with Pete is abhorrent. And I'm sorry we didn't handle it better so that it came to this. But Deanna has done a lot of things right."

"I know she's your wife," she nodded, her tone softening. From what little she knew of Reg, she did like him. "And I don't mean to be disrespectful. But if this is what matters to her, she can kiss my ass."

"Michonne," Maggie nearly gasped at her.

"It's fine," Deanna nodded, closing her eyes at Michonne's harsh words. "You don't have to like me. You don't. I don't like Pete, I hate what he's done. But we can't just get rid of people we don't get along with. That's not what a community is. And I think you know that."

"With all due respect," Maggie continued before Michonne could go off, "this isn't a question of not likin' Pete because he's rude, or because he drinks too much. My daddy had a drinkin' problem and he got along just fine. Pete is a criminal. He's been beatin' his wife for god knows how long. We shouldn't have to deal with someone like that. Jessie shouldn't have to."

"I get that now," Deanna said, making sure to address Michonne specifically. "Pete has to be locked up. And we will figure that out. But first, we have to deal with what you did."

Michonne frowned at the fact that this was still her priority. "You have your gun back..."

"You pointed it at me. Three different times."

"I didn't pull the trigger," she retorted. "I wanted to. I could've. But I didn't."

"That's the metric? That you didn't pull the trigger?"

"You tell me," Michonne shook her head, playing with the ends of her melting ice pack. "I don't know what to say anymore."

"Michonne, what happened at this hospital you were held at? Grady?"

She looked up like a deer in headlights, both startled and tensed by the question. "What?"

"I know what they did to Noah. He told me a lot of it, how you saved him, how Rick saved you. But I'm curious what happened to you there."

Maggie looked on intently, interested in the answer to that question herself. "We've all been wonderin'," she admitted.

"We got out," Michonne shrugged, holding back her many emotions about it. There was too much on her mind to try to make sense of it in that moment. "I'm not sure what else matters."

Deanna nodded, understanding that it probably wasn't the best time to try and have a heart-to-heart. Michonne was still angry, and probably would be for a while. "The truth is, you probably should have a gun," she admitted, much to everyone's surprise. "You and Rick are the law. I made you constables because I could tell that your judgment was sound. That you were the reason your group made it this far. But you cannot undermine me in front of everyone else, Michonne. How do you think that looks?"

"How do you think it looks when you ignore an abused woman when she asks you for help?"

"You wanna go in this circle all night?" she questioned, shaking her head. "That was an awful mistake on my part. But your hands aren't clean in this."

"If I didn't have that gun, I'm not sure what would've happened today. So I can't say that I'm sorry for stealing it."

"Can you honestly say that you would've provoked Pete into a fight if you didn't have it on you?"

Michonne gave pause to her question, trying to get into the mindset of a woman without a weapon. "I don't know," she confessed sincerely. "Maybe I wouldn't have been so brazen. But I wouldn't have backed down either. That's not in me."

Deanna nodded. "What would you do if you were me?"

"If I were you, Pete would've been long gone."

"Michonne…"

"Fine," she exhaled, still irritated. "I would probably take me off of constable duty once Rick returned. Temporarily, probably, unless I felt as though I didn't learn my lesson. I'd also input a better tracking system at the armory. There's no reason to have guns in the pantry. There's no reason to have three people working the pantry, and one person handling all of our firearms. They're our first defense against a threat. They should be guarded twenty-four seven. But mostly, I would just… allow guns inside the gates, if I were you. I'd get these people trained on how to safely operate weapons of all types, and just let everyone be armed."

"That's how things were at the prison," Maggie nodded. "Worked out just fine. It wasn't a 'police state.'"

"You said even Carl had a weapon," Deanna recalled, still in disbelief. "I can't have children walking around here with guns on their hips."

"With proper training, it shouldn't make a difference."

She glanced from Maggie, back to Michonne, who seemed less interested in the conversation with every passing minute. "I'm not going to penalize you this time, Michonne. Mainly because you had the courage to do what I couldn't." She stared at her straight on, despite the fact that Michonne's head was lowered. "Even though you were wrong, you were still right," she said. "And as your leader, I think it's important that I don't discourage you from doing the right thing."

She looked up now, taken aback by Deanna's concession. She had been fighting with her brain, trying not to look at this woman as another Dawn, but that was all she could see. That Deanna's passivity would get them all killed. But if she could own up to the fact that she was wrong, Michonne could give her another chance as well. "I suppose that… as a resident here, as a constable that you need to be able to trust, I'm… sorry that I didn't come to you first. Instead of just taking the gun."

"I appreciate that," she nodded, accepting her apology with a tense smile.

Maggie softly rubbed Michonne's back, proud of her for taking a step forward instead of digging into her understandable anger. Not an easy feat for anyone, but especially not someone that just walked out of a fight. "Can she go home now?" she requested hopefully, knowing her friend had been through more than enough for a day. "I can stay and discuss Pete, if need be."

"No, no, you both should go on home," Deanna waved them off. "Pete can wait until morning. It'll give us all time to come up with some constructive solutions."

Michonne had no intentions of wasting anymore time thinking about Pete Anderson. She stood from her chair with a tired sigh, exhausted from the good day turned bad, and all its fighting. She was ready to crawl into bed and forget it all. She bid them good night with a nod, giving Maggie's shoulder a quick squeeze on her way out.

* * *

As Rick pulled up to the gates of Alexandria, he let out a quiet sigh of relief that everything seemed to be all right at home. The walls were still up, which allayed his main fear that someone had somehow forced their way in. Little did he know, the problems at Alexandria were already inside.

He caught sight of Sasha in the guard tower and stopped their van short. He gave Glenn a simple look to relay that he could go on inside, just before hopping out of the car. "What are you doin' out here so late?" he greeted Sasha, glancing at his watch. His time on the road had him a bit out of sorts, it seemed – it wasn't very late. But it wasn't all that early either.

"It's my job," she answered simply, smirking down at him. "How'd it go out there?"

"Not great," he admitted, his hand resting on the grip of his gun. He glanced behind him towards the woods before looking back up at her. "From what we can tell, some group has cleared a good chunk of the nearby wholesale places."

"Well you knew that was a possibility."

"Yeah..." Rick was hesitant to say anything more, like how this group had taken out a few hundred walkers in one place alone. He wasn't sure whether that spoke to their quality or their quantity, but either way, he wasn't ready to share that with everyone just yet. He would talk to Michonne to see what she thought; question Deanna to see what she knew. "How were things here?"

"Good," she nodded, peering out into the woods herself. "I guess."

"You guess?"

"I haven't spent a whole lot of time in there," she admitted, blinking back tears.

"Why is that?" Rick frowned.

"It sounds crazy when I say it out loud," she chuckled, though her voice was still breaking. "But I just... it's hard being here without him, you know?"

Rick sighed, nodding understandingly. He never knew Sasha to be especially clingy, even if it was rare for her and Daryl to be seen apart. But he imagined being alone in the guard tower gave her more than enough time to think about it, and her rampant hormones only highlighted the point. "You wanna come over to the house? Judy's a good distraction from just about anything."

"Wouldn't she be asleep," she smiled back at him appreciatively.

"Not if she's got anything to do with it," he joked.

"No, I'm all right," she shook her head. "I like it up here. And Michonne will kill me if she finds me here in the morning, so I'm just gonna enjoy my shift."

He quirked an eyebrow at the implication, unsure of what to make of it. "So she's been doin' all right? Michonne?"

"She's..." Sasha shook her head again, in awe of how well Michonne had handled things on her own, from what little she could tell. "Yeah, she's done all right for herself."

He nodded proudly. He knew she could handle it, but did worry that he'd saddled her with too much. With that said, he couldn't wait to get home and pick up where they left off before his trip. He hoped she'd be glad to see his beard on its way back. "I oughta head on inside," he said, getting excited just thinking about it. "You holler if you need anything."

"I could use the prenatal pills I asked for."

"We got 'em," he promised, recalling what he and Glenn had collected. Lots and lots of baby stuff. "I'll leave 'em with Carol in the morning?"

"Sounds good, constable."

"Don't hurt 'em too bad out here, Sasha." Smiling to himself, Rick continued inside the gates, where he was greeted by Nicholas, donning his usual shifty eyes and generally nervous look. Rick chuckled, seeing that things seemed normal there, too.

"Hey, Rick," he waved awkwardly.

"How's it goin'?" he asked his neighbor, solely in the interest of common courtesy.

"Ah, well... let's just say you've missed a lot."

Rick frowned, puzzled by his vagueness. "Is that right?"

"You may wanna stop by Deanna's before you head home," he nodded.

Seeing how that was where Glenn would park, he planned on doing so anyway. "Will do."

As Nicholas locked up the gates for the evening, Rick headed on over to Deanna's house, where he found her standing on her porch, along with Reg, Maggie, and now Glenn. "Good to see you in one piece," she greeted him with a half smile. "Glenn tells me you two did all right out there."

"Not quite as well as we hoped," he shrugged, coming up their walkway. "But we got a good bit of food, bathroom necessities. Some seeds for Maggie to get started with," he nodded towards her. "But I feel better knowing the area a little better. And I wanted to ask you a couple of things when you have some time."

"It'll have to wait 'till morning," she said. "We have a lot to discuss then, in fact."

He frowned again, feeling put off by everyone's crypticness. His eyes flitted downward for a beat, as his expression flattened. "What happened," he asked, worried now.

"Jessie informed Michonne that Pete's been hitting her," Reg declared calmly. "It's been a bit of a situation, but it's under control now, and everyone is fine."

Rick moved closer to the short staircase between them, gripping the railing tightly. He knew he hated that guy for a reason. "What kind of situation?"

"Rick, you should get home," Deanna suggested. "Michonne just left. You could probably catch up to her."

"She's fine," Maggie immediately inserted, seeing the look on Rick's face already morphing into panic. "The kids are fine. Everybody's fine."

That didn't explain why it felt as though they were all trying to prepare him for something. "But..."

"But you should get home to your wife," Deanna nodded. "We'll talk about Pete and what to do with him in the morning."

Rick gave Maggie one last glance, trying to read her expression, to no avail. She just looked tired, like Glenn, like himself. "I'm gonna go then," he agreed. He started to take off, but realizing he still had an automatic weapon slung over his body, he turned, taking it off to hand to Glenn. He didn't miss the fact that Deanna hadn't even noticed, which must have meant she was truly distracted. "Y'all are sure everything's all right?" he questioned, squinting. Things just didn't feel right.

"We'll talk in the morning," Deanna confirmed. "Get yourself some rest, Rick."

He nodded in conceit, figuring it useless to keep on asking the same question. "All right, well good night."

"Night," Glenn finished for the small group. The four of them waited until he was out of earshot before speaking again. "Listen," Glenn said, his voice low and ominous, "this isn't hyperbole or meant to scare you, but... this is not gonna end well for Pete."

"I don't know how it can," Deanna admitted. "I imagine he's either gonna be exiled or sentenced to a very long time in solitary confinement."

"Or he's gonna die," Glenn replied seriously. "When Rick sees Michonne's face? If it's as bad as you say it is… I mean, there's no way he lets him live."

"Rick doesn't get to say who lives."

"Maybe you don't understand what I'm trying to say. I've seen what Rick will do for just _me._ When it comes to Michonne, he's not gonna give a shit about your rules, and there won't be anyone that can stop him."

"He's pulled guns on allies before," Maggie added. "He's not gonna hesitate to pull the trigger on Pete."

"I've got an armed guard on Pete, and Rick just gave you his gun," Deanna posed dismissively. Hopefully. "Everything will be fine, Glenn."

* * *

When Rick finally arrived home, he approached the steps, finding Michonne sitting on the front porch, her head inexplicably buried in her hands. A rush of dread took over all of his happy thoughts about seeing her again. "Tell me what's wrong," he softly demanded, unsure of how else to greet her.

Her head lifted at the sound of Rick's voice, and everything that had happened that evening seemed to drift away, for a moment, a least. Her entire body relaxed in relief, and she tilted her head slightly, smiling at his presence. He was home. "Hey."

"Hey," he smirked back at her, glad that she was okay enough to smile, at least. "What are you doin' out here?"

"I just needed a minute," she sighed. "It's been a long day."

"I hear Pete finally showed his true colors."

"You heard?" she frowned, surprised to find that he was so calm about it.

He nodded, making his way up the steps to really greet her. "Deanna gave me the short version. But she said I oughta get home, so I..." Rick's sentence trailed into silence as he took in a closer view of Michonne's face. His expression contorted into a worried scowl as he caught wind of her busted lip, her reddened eyes, the bandages covering her scratched up forehead. He stooped down in front of her and gently lifted her chin to get a better view in the moonlight. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm fine," she prefaced calmly, cupping his scruffy face. She let out another sigh and nodded, knowing he wouldn't take her news well. "I had an altercation with Pete-"

Rick's eyebrows raised and his head cocked to the side, already enraged by just the thought. She hadn't even said it, and he was seeing red. "Pete did this to you?"

"It was an ugly fight," she admitted. "But everything is under control now. I think Deanna finally sees my side of things, and we're gonna take care of it in the morning."

"He's not gonna be here in the morning," he answered matter-of-factly, standing from his crouched position. He pulled his Colt Python from his back and turned from his wife, headed for the Anderson home.

"Rick," she called after him, following him fretfully. "We can't just kill him."

He didn't answer, too angry for words. His boots pounded hard against the pavement as he stalked up the walkway to Jessie's house.

Michonne grabbed his arm in an attempt to stop him. "I have it handled."

"This is what you call having it handled?" he quipped angrily, gesturing towards her face. "He could've killed you!"

"And I could've killed him," she reminded him, still calm. "You think I don't feel that? You think I let him live because I wanted to?"

He pulled out of her clutches and continued up the steps to the house, banging on the front door.

Michonne remained on the walkway, annoyed that he wouldn't listen to her. She expected nothing less, but it bothered her all the same. "Rick, he's not even here," she informed him. "We moved him out yesterday."

"Then where is he?"

"He's locked up and guarded now," she promised. "Please come down and let's talk about it."

"What do you think there is to talk about?"

The door pulled open and Jessie came out, surprised to find Rick standing at her doorstep, his back to her. "What's going on?" she wondered worriedly.

"We were just leaving," Michonne called back, hoping Rick would take the hint.

She peeked around Rick to see Michonne standing a few feet away, glad to see that she was all right – physically, at least. She began to move past him to get a look at her friend. "Ron told me what happened," she shook her head. "When I went by the house, they said you were still at Deanna's. Are you okay?"

"Jessie, where's Pete," Rick interrupted, following her back down the steps.

"Don't say a word," Michonne directed her, though she was eyeing Rick.

It was then that Jessie took note of the pistol in Rick's hand. And she didn't miss the fact that he was fidgety, as if he were literally itching to use it.

"I'll search every house in this place," he warned them both.

"You're gonna kill him," Jessie said in a way that sounded like both a question and an answer at the same time.

"Rick, we can find a way," Michonne insisted.

"I've got my way," he said, tapping his gun against his thigh now. "Maybe we could've. But he was dead the second he laid hands on you."

"He's the father of her children," she sighed, wishing he could see logic through his anger. She had done it, and it was one of few reasons she hadn't taken out Pete herself.

Rick practically glared at Jessie, waiting for her to choose a side. If she didn't want him to do it, she would have to speak now.

Jessie looked at him and then over at Michonne, shaking her head. It would be one thing if only she had to bear the brunt of Pete's antics, but now he was hurting other people. Other women. She hated seeing what he'd done to the one person that cared enough to protect her. She wiped the tears that had begun to fill her eyes and turned back to Rick. "He's in that building just before you get to Deanna's house," she sniffled. "One of the basement apartments off Morgan Street."

He nodded to her, thankful for her unspoken consent for him to do what he needed to do. He just needed Michonne's. "Hey," he called to her softly, a huge contrast to his bubbling fury. He moved in closer to her, demanding her gaze, and she gave it to him. "I need you with me on this."

"I'm always with you," she frowned, thinking he should've known that by now. "Whatever happens."

"They try to kick us out tomorrow..."

" _Whatever_ happens," she emphasized, nodding for him to go on. "Be careful, Rick."

He nodded, but he was already gone.

The two ladies stood in silence as Rick disappeared, and Jessie glanced over at Michonne sadly. "You have a good man," she commented, attempting to smile comfortingly at her. "Don't think less of him for this."

She only chuckled in reply. Jessie obviously had no clue of how many people they'd killed between the two of them. The idea of thinking less of Rick for this was just laughable. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"I dunno," she shook her head, wiping more tears. "But I look at what he did to you. Years of what he's done to me. At a certain point, you just..."

"You run out of space," Michonne finished once she trailed off into silence. She remembered Jessie had put it that way the day before, and the words hit home for her. She knew all too well what it meant and how it felt to reach a breaking point.

"Yeah." She used the tail of her plaid shirt to wipe at her face, then looked up to the dark sky and its endless stars. "I just wanna be free."

Michonne nodded in understanding. After everything that happened, and all the demons she had to exorcise to get to where she was, she knew exactly how important that was for Jessie. She softly placed her hand on her shoulder, noticing that she didn't flinch this time. She smiled for her and the new life that was waiting on the other side for her. "You are."

* * *

"Get out of the way," Rick demanded to Aiden as he approached the young man. He stood in front of the door where Pete was obviously being held, a rifle slung across his chest, as if he had any idea what to do with it. "Now."

"I can't, Rick," he said, shaking his head. "I hate that fucker as much as you do, but I can't let you in there."

Rick appeared to be impressed by his gumption, but that didn't stop him from raising his .357 to the kid's forehead. "You feel like dyin' tonight, too?"

"No, sir." He quickly and nervously stepped out of the constable's path, allowing him access to the door.

Rick didn't bother to check the handle or ask for a key. He was in the mood to break things, and the first on that list was the doorframe. Using the weight of his body, he forced his way in, much in the same way he did when they went on runs. When he walked in, Pete was lying on a thin mattress on the floor.

He immediately turned to the sound of the break-in, frowning at the sight of Rick coming towards him like a raging bull. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Within seconds, before Pete could even climb out of the bed, Rick was practically on top of him. Without even thinking, he held the barrel of his Python and struck Pete in the face with the butt of the weapon. He hit him hard, unapologetically, and then did it once more. He could see where Michonne had done her damage – he had two black eyes, cuts across his forehead, scrapes across his cheeks, his nose covered in a bandage. He could see where she had fought for her life, yet again, and he became unhinged. He could tell Pete was trying to speak, trying to stop him, but he wouldn't hear it, couldn't care. There was nothing left to say.

He wrapped his hands around Pete's throat, unbeknownst to him, in a similar manner to the way he'd done Michonne earlier that day. He clutched hard, digging his knee into the man's chest, staring him in the eye as he struggled for life. Rick's eyes narrowed as he watched the life fade from Pete's, and he realized he was enjoying what he saw. He liked watching Pete turn from red to blue as he tried to pry his fingers from his neck; hearing him sputter for air as he crushed his windpipes; his pupils relaying his panic, his plea for mercy. Rick took pure pleasure in killing this man, in literally squeezing the life out of him. And before he was completely gone, he leaned down to tell him just as much. In the quietest of whispers, he calmly uttered the last words Pete Anderson would ever hear. "Fuck you."

* * *

 **A/N:** Anyone else guessing Deanna won't be too happy about this?


	8. No One Man Should Have All That Power

**A/N:** *insert long rant here about being kind to each other*

I can't remember what else I wanted to say. But as always, thank you ALL for your feedback. It keeps me going when I'm questioning the fuck out of my life and my choices, haha. Love y'all. –Ash

* * *

 **8 – No One Man Should Have All That Power**

 _Bang._

Michonne was already headed towards the front of the Safe Zone when she heard the gunshot ring throughout the quiet community. She had no doubt that it was Rick killing Pete, but she let out a shaky exhale anyway, unsure of how she felt about it. How others would feel about it. She knew it would cause a shift in the ASZ dynamics; she simply didn't know how they would play out, and she was loath to get her answer.

As she got closer to the front of the neighborhood, she noted that people were turning on lights inside their homes; she could hear front doors creaking open, everyone eager to find out what was going on. For the second time that evening, a panic had washed over Alexandria.

Michonne stopped at the corner of Morgan Street and Lower Creek Trail, where she could see Rick emerging from the lower level condos situated on there. She sighed gratefully, seeing that he was, in fact, all right, but she didn't miss how calm he looked. His gait was cool as ever as he made his way towards her, stuffing his gun back into his waistband.

"You couldn't have used something quieter?" she smirked.

He was tempted to say that he had, but simply shrugged instead. "Lost my knife this morning. It was either that, or decapitate him."

"Jesus, Rick."

"Come with me?" he said, nodding towards Deanna's house.

She nodded in agreement, joining his side in a strut identical to his. "You all right?"

"I'm good now," he answered simply, his southern twang in overdrive. He looked over to her, still hating that that man was able to do anything to hurt her. That he left and allowed her to be hurt. "I never even asked you how you were feeling."

"I told you I was fine."

"You've gotta be in pain."

"Funny enough, it all seemed to dissipate when you got home," she shook her head, half-smiling at him. "Bob gave me a supply of Advil and Tramadol if I really need it, but… I'm okay. You don't get this far without learning how to take a few hits."

He nodded, glad that she sounded better than she looked. He affectionately held the back of her neck as they made their way up the hill to Deanna's. She and Reg were coming out of her home just as the two of them approached.

"That came from inside the gates," she noted, clearly alarmed as she quickly descended her steps to face Rick and Michonne. When she realized neither one of them were the least bit concerned, it dawned on her that they were the culprits. "What have you done?"

"Pete's dead," Rick announced coldly. Detachedly. "I killed him." He watched Deanna cover her mouth in horror before adding, "It's what needed to happen."

Reg tried to comfort his wife, holding her shoulders as he regarded their two constables. "Michonne, I thought we had all come to an understanding."

"Maybe you did," Rick answered for her. "But I wasn't there for that conversation, and I didn't make any deals with you people."

"Here I thought she was the one I had to worry about," Deanna submitted, clearly disappointed. Her hand still covered her mouth, trying to figure out what to do.

"You don't need to be worried about either of us," Rick quipped heatedly. "Because we'll be just fine if this place gets attacked. You should be worried about yourself and the fact that there are walkers outside our doors that none of you have any clue how to kill. There are other _groups_ out there, and we have no idea who they are or what they _might_ want from us. Me and Michonne aren't your problem. We're your solution."

Michonne looked to her husband worriedly as she took in his words. "Groups?" she questioned.

"Glenn and I found evidence of at least one," he answered, his tone immediately softening. "We came home to make sure they hadn't found us."

"What kind of group do you think they are?" Deanna frowned curiously, crossing her arms over her chest. "What reason is there to worry?"

Michonne rolled her eyes, unable to control her annoyance at her cluelessness. "If there's someone roaming the area, there's no telling what they'd do to get in here."

"How big is this group?" Reg asked, clearly concerned as well.

"I don't have a clue," Rick shrugged, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb. "Could be anywhere from five to a hundred, for all we know."

As residents began to gather in the streets, Deanna shook her head, frustrated. "We're getting off topic. I have to address these people about this gunshot."

"I'll tell 'em what happened," he offered.

"You just killed a man in cold blood. I'm not letting you get in front of a group of scared people," she scoffed. "You're lucky I haven't sent you packing."

"I'd honestly like to see you try," Michonne cut in, stepping in front of Rick now.

"You can try to pretend we're civilized and things are like they used to be," he added from behind her, "but Pete was dead he second he put his hands on my wife. And I have no problem sayin' that to anyone who needs to hear it."

"Deanna!" Tobin called out to her from up the street. "What the hell is going on?"

"I'll be coming around soon," she called back to him. "Everything is fine," she promised. "Just give me a moment to get things sorted."

"I can do it," Rick offered again.

Deanna sighed heavily, rubbing tiredly at her face. The Grimes family was really doing a number on her sanity at that point. She would've been kidding herself to think she could kick them out. Not only did she need them, but she was certain they'd set fire to Alexandria first. She was at a loss. "You two should go home," she motioned in the direction of their house. "You left Pete in that apartment?"

He nodded. "I can take care of it."

"I'll have Spencer and Abraham do it," she declined tersely. "You go home. We'll have a lot to discuss in the morning."

* * *

 _My heroine, my cocaine, my plum wine, my MDMA  
_ _I'm hopped upon it, it won't go away  
_ _Now I can't wait 'til I get home to get you in my veins_

The second Rick and Michonne walked into the house, Rick felt a surge of energy rush through him. What he'd done to Pete certainly had him in a fiery mood, but it seemed as though he could actually feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins now. He turned to Michonne, where she slowly and tiredly locked the door, then unlocked it once she realized they still had guests. She was taken by surprise when she felt Rick's lips on her neck, smiling at the sensation of his warm tongue against her skin.

"Mmm," she quietly moaned, resting her head against his. "I've missed that."

"I've missed you," he mumbled, just as his hands went to her hips and quickly traveled upwards. He had her up against the door, cupping her breasts before either of them could blink.

"Rick," she giggled softly. She was delighted by his surprise attack, but Carol and Tyreese were just around the corner in their living room. "We can't do this here, babe."

"Can't we?" His tongue was still lapping at the saltiness of her skin, moving her hair out of his way so he could lick every inch of her neck. His fingers moved down to her pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, and he felt himself harden at just the thought of being inside her pussy.

She didn't stop him, but rather basked in his urgency, resting her head against the door as his fingers dipped into her slowly. Her breath began to quiver as he rubbed her clit softly with his thumb, while his middle finger worked its way into her center. She instinctively began to contort her hips in response, falling further into ecstasy with every second that passed. Her ass rubbed against his crotch, and she could feel his bulge pressed against her, only serving to turn her on even more. "Rick…" she moaned when he pushed into her with two fingers now.

"Shh," he smirked at her reaction. His lips traveled up the side of her face, gently kissing and licking at her fresh scars. "I wanna fuck you right here," he whispered, nibbling at her ear.

"We can't." She smiled back at him, knowing that the possibility of getting caught always made him hornier. But then, the same could be said for her, if she were being honest.

He didn't respond, but slowly pulled his hand from her wet depths, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck her cum off of them. She tasted noticeably sweeter, and he licked his lips, wanting more. "I dunno if I can wait."

 _Pusher love  
_ _I'm just a j-j-j-junkie for your love_

She couldn't either. She felt her pussy twitching, yearning for him, calling for him. "Shit," she whispered, resting the back of her head against his chest. She pulled off her loosened tie while he quickly began to unbutton her shirt. Her tits were plump and her nipples were firm, just begging to be sucked out of her bra. The feel of his warm hands on her skin was driving her insane. She wanted him right then and there, decorum be damned. She had spent the day fighting, and now she needed a good fuck.

 _I'm hopped up on it  
_ _And now I'm just a j-j-j-junkie for your love_

Without another word, she pushed him into the coat closet, where there was just enough room for them and the empty hangers that resided there. They could no longer see each other, but neither of them cared. In fact, it only made their other senses come to life. Michonne smelled of blood and Rick like sweat, and they both knew that would soon be covered by the scent of their sex. Rick unhooked her bra from the front, freeing her round, supple tits, his tongue latching onto her nipples, sucking hard at her sweet flesh. He delved into her panties once again, fingering her warm, soft core. He licked his own lips as if they were hers, imagining plunging his tongue into all that wetness.

As Rick's kisses continued down her flat stomach, Michonne tugged at his hair, delighting in the softness of his curls. She managed to pull his t-shirt over his head, and the heat of his skin radiated off of him, causing her to breathe a little harder. He was sexy even when she couldn't see him. Just the feel of him turned her on.

 _My nicotine, my blue dream  
_ _My hydroponic, candy jelly bean  
_ _Can't you fix me up, I'm your number one fiend  
_ _Be my little pill and just creep into my bloodstream_

She kicked off her boots while he quickly pushed her pants down the curves of her hips, anxious to get inside. He groped her perfect ass as she hurriedly stepped out of her panties, hoisting her against the closet wall once she was out of them. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, excited by the feel of his hard dick rubbing against her through his jeans.

Michonne hastily pulled him into a kiss, having missed the feel of his lips on hers more than anything. Their tongues moved faster than their brains, and their hands even quicker. She deftly unbuckled Rick's belt without the aid of sight, while his fingers moved in and out of her, distracting her from her task. He was and always had been an expert with his hands.

He helped her help him out of his jeans, finally, and they both grunted out in pleasure when he felt his way inside of her. He moved slowly at first, the head of his long cock rubbing against her slit before finally pushing in. "Oh, fuck," Michonne whimpered loudly, feeling unusually sensitive to him.

Rick immediately covered her mouth with his hand, laughing quietly at her reaction. "You're gonna get us caught."

She also giggled at the fact that she simply couldn't contain herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to reposition herself on his dick. "Come on."

"You have to be quiet."

"Shut up. I will," she promised. She wrapped an arm around his neck, and used her other hand to hold onto the closet rod, ready to get back to business.

"You always do this," he said, shaking his head. "You say you can be quiet, and then you sell us both out."

"You should take it as a compliment." She was smiling as she kissed the side of his face, utterly amused by him and how little it took for him to drive her insane. "Now fuck me please."

 _Bloodshot eyes, I'm hopped upon it  
_ _You ain't gotta think twice, just hop up on it_

Rick did exactly that, plunging into his wife once more with a quiet groan that he also couldn't suppress. They fit so perfectly together, every time was like the first time. Being with Michonne, everything else faded away. The anger, the worry, the sadness. All he knew, all he needed to know was the two of them, right then, right there, fucking like there was no tomorrow.

He was in a daze, in a trance as he pounded into her. Not being able to see made it all the more intense. He could feel every clench of her walls. The sound of her panting was as loud as a locomotive, and the smell of her sex was sweet as a mango. His mind was going wild, imagining her breasts hanging from her open bra, bouncing in time with his thrusts. He could still taste her sweet milk on his lips and he licked his fingers again for another sample.

Michonne's lips crashed against the side of Rick's face, tasting his sweat, loving the feel of his scruffy beard against her skin. The wet sound of her taking him in was steady, like a drum, and more erotic than her brain could handle. He was so deep and his stroke felt so good, her nails were digging into his skin as she willed herself to stay quiet. "I love you," she whispered against his face, her body beginning to shake. "So much."

"I love you too," he answered in a haphazard grunt. "Shut up."

"You need to concentrate that hard?"

"I'm trying not to yell." His sentence tumbled out of his mouth all at once, sounding like one word. "You feel..."

She nodded, knowing the exact sentiment he was trying to express.

"Fuck," he panted quietly, feeling her climax as it overtook her body. She had tightened around his cock, and the sensation was orgasmic in itself.

The dick was so good, Michonne didn't want to stop, but her legs began to shake, and she could barely stay upright. She wrapped both her arms around him, hoping he had the strength to hold her, because she was done for. She wanted to finish him off, but her body was too wrapped up in her orgasm to even try. "Rick," she whimpered, feeling tormented by the pleasure.

He was glad she was done, relieved he wouldn't have to stave off his own release any longer. She was so wet, he was practically swimming in her, happy to drown in it now that she had gotten hers. He came in a sudden wave, feeling his mind empty just as quickly and intensely as his body had. He felt high, Michonne was his drug, and he didn't want to come down.

 _There's a million names for your kind of chronic  
_ _That pusher love, that's what I call it_

* * *

The next morning, Rick was awoken by the sun, its bright rays streaming into his room, reminding him that a new day had come. He hadn't been gone for long, but he'd already forgotten how nice it was to wake up in a bed, beside the love of his life. He then shifted his head toward the sound of Michonne's snoring, groggily chuckling at how perfect she was, even when she wasn't. This was the type of thing he missed in the beginning of their relationship, as they were always too busy sneaking around, trying not to get caught liking each other. It amazed him what a whole new world opened up just by being able to openly admit that he loved this woman. He studied her for a long time, wondering what else he would learn about her in their years together. He wondered what kind of fate would have it that this woman would walk into his life and actually stick around, despite everything he'd put her through. He shook his head in amazement, softly brushing her sun-kissed dreadlocks from her face as he stared.

"I am indecently lucky," he whispered to himself.

Michonne's eyes didn't open, but she smiled at his words as they tickled her ears. "Yes, you are, Grimes."

"You're supposed to be sleeping," he grinned back at her, not surprised in the least that she'd woken.

"And how was I supposed to do that with you breathing in my face?" she yawned, finally locking eyes with him. "Good morning."

"Mornin'." He planted a quick kiss to her forehead before sitting up, resting his back against their headboard. "How are you feelin'?"

She let out another big yawn and repositioned to her back, gauging the extent of her injuries. "I'm sore," she admitted. "Although I can't be sure that's not from you."

"Very funny."

"No, I'm okay. Started cramping in the middle of the night, but that's nothing new."

"You've been cramping a lot?"

"Since I was twelve," she confirmed with a silly smirk.

His expression deflated when he realized she was talking about menstrual cramps. "Oh."

"But I haven't had a regular period in ages. Who the hell knows what's going on in there."

He watched her sit up so that she was sitting alongside him, nodding absently at her words as he gazed at her. "Maybe there's a baby in there," he suggested hopefully.

"It's too soon, Rick," she chuckled dismissively. "We barely got started two weeks ago."

"You said we started over a month ago."

"I was joking, baby. We had sex exactly _once_ after we left the prison."

"One time is all it takes," he shrugged.

She stared at him for a long moment, considering the likelihood of them actually having conceived a child that awful night that she was taken. Rick was right – one time was all it took. It was hard to fathom, but… certainly not impossible. "Shit, I might be pregnant," she grinned in realization.

He chuckled at her obvious excitement about the prospect. "This really never crossed your mind before now?"

"I mean..." She shook her head, thinking about all the obvious symptoms that she'd been ignoring. Fatigue. Swollen breasts. Constantly wanting peanut butter. "Even yesterday, when Carol told me Maggie might be, the thought didn't even occur to me."

"That's amazing."

"I've been a little busy," she reminded him, playfully poking him in the neck. "I guess I'll check today."

"Well don't sound so excited about it," he teased, climbing out of bed. He grabbed a t-shirt from the laundry pile atop their dresser, along with his favorite pair of jeans as he headed into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him. "Maybe it's best if you're not, considering Deanna's probably gonna kick us outta here today."

"Don't even joke about that," she called back to him, laughing herself. "We can't afford to go back out there, you know."

"I do know that, believe it or not."

She playfully rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone, on top of the fact that he didn't shut the door as he peed. "At some point, we're gonna have to have a serious discussion," she said eventually. The reality of the day was setting in, while all her adrenaline from the day before was dwindling. "About last night."

There was shuffling in the bathroom, followed by a toilet flush, and more water running, before Rick came into view in the bedroom once more. "What about it?"

"About who we're gonna be in this new world. If, indeed, this is a new world."

"Nothin's changed out there," he reminded her, nodding his head towards the gates. "Anyone can show up at our door at any minute, and I'm not havin' another Governor situation. Not if I've got _anythin_ g to do with it."

"And I agree with that," she nodded back, crawling towards the edge of the bed so that they were closer to being face-to-face. "But... there's a fine line between killing out of necessity and killing because that's what we're used to doing."

"I told you, Pete was dead the second he put hands on you."

"Can I be honest with you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Please do..."

"Pete annoyed me," she said simply. "He was impolite, to say the least; he was creepy, on a good day. But even before I knew he was abusive, he just... he annoyed me. And I remember one night, he spoke to me in passing, and I actually reached for my sword. I mean, what would I have done if I had it? Threaten him, I guess. But... that itch? That impulse to pull out a deadly weapon because he _annoyed_ me? That's scary. And I don't know if that's who I wanna be. If that's who I want us to be."

Rick nodded thoughtfully at her words, having felt those same urges. He wanted to take Pete's life just for looking at his wife a little too long. It was a dangerous, slippery slope they were headed down. "He had to die, Michonne." He said it to her, but perhaps he was more trying to convince himself. He wasn't sure at that point. "I'm not saying you're wrong, but I'm not saying I was either."

"Maybe he did," she shook her head in uncertainty. "I told Deanna she needed to handle it, or I'd kill him myself. But I got the feeling she was gonna handle it."

"So you think I was wrong."

"I think you did what you had to do. Protecting your family is who you are, and I don't want you any other way," she stated genuinely. "But I don't wanna be judge, jury, and executioner anymore. I just... I wanna be happy here, Rick."

"I can tell you are happy here," he nodded back. "Or you were..."

"I _am_. I just want it to stay that way."

"So… what are you asking for here?"

"I dunno," she shrugged with a small smile. "I guess I just want us to trust people a bit more?" Even Michonne couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Deanna is realizing that her way isn't necessarily the best way. And I think we've gotta meet her halfway."

Rick turned back into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush, but he gazed at her contemplatively, his piercing blue eyes softening as he stood before her once more. "I'll give anything a try for you, Chonne. But the second she, or anyone else, puts us in danger, I'm done with it."

She sighed, figuring that was the closest she would get to him agreeing. "Fine."

"I'm meeting you halfway," he said with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah, but you want to."

"Because you just know everything," she joked, pulling herself out of bed to join him in the bathroom. Her body was sorer than she originally thought, feeling every step she took as she made her way across the hardwood floor. She gave Rick's backside a playful squeeze as she passed him.

"You ever wonder if we would've worked together in the old world?" he decided to randomly pose as she headed for the toilet. "As a couple, I mean."

"I'm not sure how your first wife would've felt about that."

"You're so funny," he smirked sarcastically, pulling on his shirt. He was about to step into his jeans when he caught sight of Michonne's expression when she stood from the commode. "What's wrong," he demanded, instantly worried.

"Nothing," she frowned. "But I think it's safe to say I'm not pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"My period just came on, so yeah, I'm pretty sure."

He nodded, trying not to show his disappointment that obviously mirrored hers. They had nothing but time to keep trying. "Guess that just means we've gotta have more sex then," he shrugged goofily.

She chuckled back at him, knowing that he was trying to make her laugh, and she appreciated that it worked. "How ever will we manage?"

"I'm not sure, but… I'm willing to give it a try if you are."

She could only smile back at him admiringly. Rick was learning to be exactly who she needed him to be, exactly when she needed him to – whether it be caring and understanding, protective and batshit crazy, or carefree and silly. "I love you," she mouthed to him.

"I know." He gave her a bashful grin back and resumed his task of getting dressed.

* * *

As promised, Deanna requested to speak with Rick and Michonne not long thereafter, but failed to mention the fact that the rest of the community would be joining them. They were sitting in an impromptu town hall meeting, facing all of their friends and neighbors in what felt like an ambush. They periodically glanced at one another uneasily as Deanna spoke.

"As you're all aware by now, there've been a series of incidents that took place yesterday, all of which led to the death of one of our residents, Peter Anderson." Deanna looked to Jessie sympathetically, but she had her head down and her eyes closed. "And while I regret the way in which things transpired," she went on, "it's brought a lot of things to light. It's raised a lot of questions for me as a leader, and for what I'd like for this community to be."

Michonne braced herself for the worst, grabbing Rick's hand as she prepared for Deanna to announce that their family would need to leave immediately. She noticed that Maggie was staring back at her encouragingly, as if to say that everything would be all right, but it only made her more nervous. "I'm scared," she whispered to Rick.

"Don't be," he urged her, squeezing her hand lightly. "Whatever happens…"

"I spoke to all of your neighbors," Deanna turned to say to the two heads of the Grimes household. "I wanted to speak to everyone privately, let them know the details, and get their untainted, unabridged feelings on the matter."

"Okay," Rick nodded, staring out to his fellow community members. He was trying to estimate how many of them he trusted to have his back, and the number was at about half.

"I even included my family in this decision," she added, in the interest of fairness. "We sat up all night. And I want you to know… I want everyone to know that I didn't come to this decision easily. I'm frustrated, I'm sad, I'm a little relieved," she nodded, chuckling lightly. "But I have to do what's best for this community, which means listening when you all speak to me. And Michonne, I know you think that I haven't heard you, but I have."

With a deep breath, she nodded back at Deanna, silently wishing she would just get on with it. She seemed to be drawing out their inevitable exile just for the fun of it. "Spit it out," she mumbled under her breath.

"Effective immediately, I am stepping down as leader of the Alexandria Safe Zone," she announced confidently. She smiled reassuringly at Rick and Michonne as they looked up at her with wide eyes. "Michonne, Rick… they're all yours now."

Michonne's shock immediately turned to confusion, and her wary expression contorted into a grimace. "I'm sorry, what?"

"They trust you," she gestured towards the rest of the town, where Jessie was grinning back at Michonne; Sasha was smirking at them both; Nicholas and Aiden were in conversation, laughing happily; Abraham looked relieved. "And honestly? I'm sick of fighting you." With a giant sigh, she took a seat on the bench beside them, glad to be rid of all her headaches – the two of them, in particular. "You say you can do better? Go ahead."

* * *

Lyrics: "Pusher Love Girl" - Justin Timberlake (The 20/20 Experience)


	9. There Is Only One Thing We Say To Death

**A/N:** Ughhhhh, you guys are so unbelievably kind and supportive, it doesn't even make sense. It didn't even occur to me that y'all would respond to my little rant, but of course you would, because you're awesome. And I love you. To the point where I edited it out, because I ain't tryin' to kill everybody's vibe, lol. So thank you for your encouraging words. I swear I'm okay! I'm still with you! And I actually had a lot of fun writing the last chapter, so thank you for digging it.

I won't say a lot more, because this chapter is so long, and I'm sorry. When I outlined this story, it didn't seem like these chapters would be endless, but alas… lol. This is kind of a two-parter along with the next chapter, so the beginning of this isn't super exciting, but there are lots of details to iron out as we move forward. And I'm almost done with Ch. 10, so I hope to have it to you soon! Thank you guys so, so much, for everything. –Ash

* * *

 **9 – There Is Only One Thing We Say To Death**

"So sorry I'm late," Michonne sighed, hauling ass into Deanna's basement. She plopped her travel mug full of ice water down on the table as she took a seat. "I was really dragging my feet this morning. And as it turns out, coffee is no longer my friend."

Maggie smiled back at her understandingly. "I just got here myself, so no worries."

"And let the record show that she told me to go ahead," Rick announced to the room before anyone could judge him for leaving his wife.

"I did," Michonne chuckled, opening her laptop. She did a quick glance around the table to make sure all parties were present before looking back at Rick. "You ready?"

"I am."

"All right," she grinned at his answer, and the fact that that was how they'd started all three of their council meetings now. "So I think Glenn wanted to start things off," she declared to the seven people in front of her.

"Oh, yeah," Glenn cleared his throat. "So... like I told Rick, I think we can officially stop our search for gas now that Eugene has us running on biodiesel. Just something cool that I wanted to share with everyone."

"You think it's safe for the cars?" Deanna questioned from across from him.

"We think they actually run better," he nodded, surprised by the discovery himself. "I mean, not that there's any use trying to save the world now, but it's definitely the more environmentally safe option, so..."

"So that'll take a lot of pressure off of the run crew," Rick chimed in, happy to provide them some relief. "That frees them up to keep stocking up on weapons, food..."

"If we could just move the process out of my kitchen," Michonne joked, "Judith and I would really appreciate it."

"We could have the kids get together in one of the empty homes," Deanna nodded. "Add it to the schedule for evenings or Saturdays."

Michonne nodded, and began typing notes while Deanna wrote hers on a pad of paper. "I'll talk to Eugene about it before he heads to class today."

"So, speakin' of food," Maggie interjected as they wrote, "I've started preppin' that area towards the back gate, and I told Tobin already, but with all the different seeds y'all got, I think I'm gonna need more space sooner than later."

"I told her that was up to you," Tobin nodded in agreement, "but I got my guys ready to go out looking for more steel for the wall expansion."

"We should finish gun training before you send your men out there," Deanna suggested, looking to Rick. "Provided we can get that done soon."

"I think we're getting there," Rick said, glancing over to Carl. His son had been assisting him with training the original Alexandria residents, along with Sasha. "But we've got a ways to go."

"Yeah, they could use like another month of training," Carl offered with a shy smile. "They're definitely not ready for a long trip outside the walls."

"We're not that bad, are we?" Deanna chuckled.

"You're not that good either."

"Well you guys need to hurry it up," Michonne chided them jokingly. "My sessions are nearly done."

"First of all, you have way more people to help you. And secondly, you've got a much easier task than the three of us," Rick shot back.

She offered a small smile of conceit. Indeed, teaching people how to kill walkers at close range, with sharp objects was a much easier task than showing them how to effectively aim and shoot. Still, she was winning the unspoken contest within the Grimes household, and she would not be ignoring that fact. "Well you let me know if you need some help there, Grimes. I can spare a couple of my people."

"That's very funny," he smirked, picking up on the fact that she was being sarcastic.

"For the record," Carl inserted, "my people are doing just fine. Enid is already a better shot than most of the adults I've seen."

"Well kids are more adaptable," Tobin noted, feeling defensive for himself. "It's not easy to relearn something."

"Excuses, excuses," Michonne chuckled. She was glad that their council meetings were turning to a light affair, given everything that had happened in the past week. But the Alexandrians had taken well to her and Rick's leadership styles. It was clear that they knew what they were doing, but they still appointed others in roles of authority, and made sure to listen to them when they spoke.

They had also implemented mandatory training for every resident, so there would no longer be one group of people responsible for keeping everyone safe. Each member of the community would have to be accountable for themselves. As Carl put it to the kids he trained, if they had any chance at survival, they had to be an entire group of badasses. And so far, things were headed in that direction.

"So what else we got?" she questioned, taking small sips from her water. "I got a session in ten minutes."

"I don't have you down for class today," Deanna noted, confused as she glanced at the schedule she'd compiled. "Did I miss something?"

"This is a one-on-one, me and Sasha."

"Michonne's learning to use a sniper rifle, so then she'll officially know everything," Carl chuckled teasingly. But truthfully, he was proud of having a mom that was good at everything. It made him awesome just by association.

"I'm still very much a beginner," she informed Deanna. "But I do want to be well-versed in close, mid, and long-range combat."

"Jack of all trades," she nodded back at her, impressed. "That's never a bad thing."

Rick looked on proudly as Michonne grinned in response. He, too, was enjoying watching his wife become the ultimate warrior. "Chonne, you can go ahead if you need to," he offered. "I think we just have a bunch of expansion stuff to talk about."

"Oh, did you two decide who you'll want to add to the council between Aaron and Daryl?" Deanna posed before Michonne could leave.

"I think we decided that Aaron would be best," he confirmed. "He's been at it longer, and knows the area better. Plus, Daryl'll probably be pretty busy within a few months time."

"As will Maggie and Glenn."

"We should talk about daycare options soon too," Michonne nodded. "Carol brought it up jokingly, but if the idea is to keep the world going, we've gotta expect kids to be a part of that deal."

"You think Carol will wanna start on that project?" Glenn asked.

"I don't know. I think she enjoys interacting with kids a bit older, but I can always ask." She typed a quick note into her document, and added Eric, Reg, Jessie, and Noah's mom, Grace, to the list as well. Everyone with part-time jobs. "If we can expand the walls to include that church, we can use it for school and daycare."

"That's a good idea," Maggie nodded in agreement. "I can help as well, 'specially in the winter months."

"And when we're here, I can too," Glenn offered. "Tara, Noah, we can all help. Whatever you guys need."

"Hey Dad, are you gonna tell them about what Eugene said?"

Rick looked over at Carl, confusion crossing his face as he took a sip of his coffee. "What did Eugene say?"

"About the phones?" he frowned, trying to jog his father's memory.

"Oh. Right." He focused on Deanna now, figuring she'd be the only one to have an answer. "He says if we've got any old smartphones around – iPhones, Androids, he thinks he can get some sort of walkie-talkie system goin' for us. Which would help a lot in communicating between inside and the guard tower. And it would help when Glenn takes his folks out."

"Oh my," Deanna marveled. "I know the kids have those i-gadgets, they're always playing games on them. I'll go around today and see what I can rustle up."

"Well all right," Michonne declared happily. She was so proud of the strides they were making toward turning Alexandria into a real community. "On that note, I think I'm gonna head out." She gave each of her teammates a friendly glance, and then stopped on Rick. "You know where to find me if you need anything."

"Be careful out there," he said. He gave her a long gaze, licking his lips as she stood from her chair. "You got lunch plans?"

She turned to her husband with a smirk, not missing that he had two fingers over his mouth, which was becoming something of an inside joke between the two of them. "I do," she said, containing a smile. "But I'll see you tonight."

* * *

A few hours later, Michonne was headed back outside the gates after her lunch date with Judith, when she happened to hear Carl talking over a succession of suppressed gunshots popping off. She knew that he was in the middle of his gun training class, but had yet to see him in action, so she stopped to watch for a bit.

"Good job," he was saying encouragingly. "Now take ten big steps back."

She rounded the corner to see the neighborhood kids – Jessie's boys, Noah's brothers, Joseph and Justin, as well as Enid, Mikey, and five other adolescents she wasn't quite as familiar with – standing in a line. They were all watching intently as Sam stepped back from a log swinging from a tree. He had his gun in his hand, while the rest of them had theirs safely tucked into their leg holsters, same as their instructor.

Carl used a red marker to circle the spots on the wood that Sam had already hit, then gave the log a big push before stepping out of the way. "Go!" he nodded.

Sam took a deep breath, raised his weapon, and took three shots before stopping. Carl raised his hand, Sam lowered his gun, and the entire group waited for the verdict.

"Two out of three," Carl smirked. "Nice."

Sam smiled proudly, glad that he wasn't the worst student in the class, despite being one of the youngest. That title actually went to his brother. "Can I try again?" he asked excitedly.

"Keep goin' 'til you miss," Carl allowed, grinning when he noticed that Michonne had joined them. "Take another five steps back," he added. He repeated his process of marking the target, and then swinging it.

Michonne looked on in amusement as the young man took three more shots, and the cycle continued. He hit at least once for a while, until he was about forty feet away. Next up was Enid, who Michonne was eager to see Carl interact with, based on the fact that she knew he had a crush on her. The girl also seemed to have a perpetual bad attitude, so she was curious how Carl handled it. They all waited patiently as Carl switched the logs out, as each person had their own personal target, and she then stepped up to the plate.

"Don't let Sam fool you," Carl joked. "It's not as easy as it looks."

Enid rolled her eyes, waiting for him to step out of the way, and then took her first three shots. Carl held up his hand, but he already knew she hadn't gotten a hit. Still, he examined it anyway. "Nada."

She sighed in frustration. "You pushed mine harder than you did Sam's, you know."

"You're older than Sam, you did better in stationary practice, and to be honest, you should be better at this by now. It doesn't make sense that you were on the outside as long as you were and don't know how to use a gun," Carl said evenly.

"I know how to use a knife."

"That's great. I'd love to see you take down four walkers at once with a knife."

"Four?" Ron inserted worriedly. "Has that ever happened to you?"

"Not to me, but I've seen it happen," he nodded. "And unless you're Michonne, you're gonna lose."

Michonne giggled quietly at the reference, knowing that the other kids hadn't noticed her standing there.

"Go again," Carl said, giving Enid's log another swing.

She took a deep breath and raised her gun, attempting to hit the moving target again. And again, she missed. "It's moving too much."

"So you think a walker is gonna hold still while it's trying to kill you?" Carl chided. "Try again."

She raised her gun, but purposely tried waiting until the momentum of the log slowed to a pace she was happy with.

"There are walkers surrounding you," Carl said, moving towards her. "Take your shot."

"I can't."

"It's getting closer. There's one behind you, too." Carl tried not to chuckle when Sam and Justin began making walker noises from the line. "Take your shot, Enid."

She took one, but had obviously missed and hit the wall instead, causing some of the other kids to snicker. "Shut up," she told them all.

"Don't you dare laugh," Carl warned them, approaching Enid now. "You've been out there too long to think the world is gonna be quiet and stand still for you," he said seriously. "Shoot it."

"Shut up!"

"It's in your face, Enid! It's time to either shoot or run, and there's nowhere to run now."

She took another shot, and another miss.

"Shoot it!"

A shot and a miss.

"You're dead now. Dead girl."

"Fuck you, Carl," she spat angrily.

"Being mad at me isn't gonna bring you back to life, dead girl." He stopped the log mid-swing and untied it from the tree, letting it fall to the ground in a loud thud as she moved to the back of the line in a huff. "I know this is new for you guys," Carl went on, his tone softening slightly. "But my parents trusted me to do this, and I'm not gonna fail. Which means you can't fail either." He looked at each of them as he spoke, confidently, as his father or Michonne would. "You guys aren't gonna die on my watch. I've watched it happen too many times. I've lost too many friends, too much of my family. I've watched my dad literally lose his mind over it. That's not happening here. It's gonna be different now. So let's go back to day one basics," he said, turning from the small group. "What do we say to death?"

In unison, everyone – everyone but Enid – replied, "Not today!"

Carl picked up the log designated for Ron, tied it up, and gave it a big push before moving towards the back of the group, pulling out his Beretta. He waited for everyone to step out of the way, and then eyed his target for just a second before taking his shot. The class watched in awe as the log fell to the ground once Carl's bullet snapped through the thread of the rope. " _That's_ our lesson for today. Who's ready to learn?"

* * *

The day was coming to its end as Rick retreated from Deanna's home into the warm July evening, the streets nearly empty, nearly silent. As he stepped down from the porch, he noticed Sasha finishing up a conversation with Spencer, looking more annoyed than she usually did, and he couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed that the older Monroe was completely oblivious to her irritation, smiling at Sasha pitifully as she walked away.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say somebody's got a crush on you," Rick quietly declared with a smile as he met his friend on the sidewalk.

She looked back at Spencer with a scoff. "He's just scared of me," she waved it off. "As he should be."

"Not to question your teaching practices, but being nice to the kid wouldn't kill you, you know."

"You don't know that," she retorted, half-jokingly. "And he's not a kid. We're practically the same age, yet he's twice as clueless."

"You're right," he immediately surrendered. "Forgive me."

"I was never known as the nice one on a good day," she continued, shaking her head. She knew she had been short with some of the other Alexandrians, and she really hadn't meant to be. But she didn't have time for stupidity, and in her eyes, they were exactly that and then some. "I just... I don't wanna be bothered sometimes."

"Daryl will be back soon," he promised, knowing that his absence was the root of most of her misery.

"What?" she looked back at him with a frown.

"I know that that's what's bothering you. And that's fine," he nodded. "You're in this new place, feeling displaced, and then he leaves. I get it."

"And I'm pregnant, and just… generally annoyed by everything right now," she admitted with a soft sigh. "I feel like I'm losing it sometimes, Rick."

"You've been doing well," Rick said, attempting to be encouraging. "I know it's not the easiest thing in the world, dealing with people so naïve after all this time. But it's our job to make this place better. Because if they're weak, then so are we."

"I know," she nodded. "Which is the only reason why I haven't strangled Holly to death yet."

"That rough, huh?"

"I've literally never seen someone with such bad aim."

Rick laughed, the two of them coming up on their homes now. "You're welcome to come over for dinner," he offered, stopping just in front of his driveway. "I've got dinner tonight, so you may not want to, but… you're welcome."

Sasha smirked at the offer, appreciative that Rick and Michonne constantly tried to keep her occupied with Daryl gone. "What are you making?" she decided to ask, though she was fairly certain she would accept the offer either way.

"Pancakes," he chuckled, amused with his own limited cooking skills. He took a step back, his hand rested on his gun as he waited for her answer.

"You mean to tell me Michonne's out there all day, and the best you can do for dinner is pancakes?"

"For your information, she loves my pancakes."

"Right," Sasha playfully rolled her eyes.

"It's true," he said, leading her up the path to his home. "Truth be told, her and Judy will eat just about anything, long as there's peanut butter in it."

"I can't say I disagree with them there," she grinned.

Laughing, the two of them continued into the Grimes home, where Rick immediately noted that things were eerily quiet. No TV on, no music playing, no Judith making her usual baby noise as she ran through the house. He knew the kids were supposed to be home, and this wasn't the scene he typically came home to. "Carl?" he called out skeptically.

There was obvious movement in the living room before Carl's head popped up from behind the couch. "Hey, Dad. Hey, Sasha."

"What are you doing?" Rick frowned, instantly struck by his son's odd behavior. "And where's your sister?"

"She's… umm. Around…"

"Carl, stand up and step away from the couch," he instructed, already walking towards the living room.

"Dad, I-."

"Now." He did as told while Rick inspected the situation at hand. And as he approached, Carl's friend Enid hopped up as well, stumbling to her feet to stand across from Carl. Rick looked at his son expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

"Hi, Mr. Grimes," Enid greeted him timidly. It was the first time in a long time that she was truly nervous.

"What the hell were you doing?" he demanded of his teenager.

Carl only shook his head, not wanting to answer the question. "We were just hanging out."

Rick covered his face tiredly; he didn't have the energy to deal with this at the moment. "Enid, you should go home."

"Yes, sir," she nodded, quickly scurrying past him and towards the front door.

Sasha returned to the scene of Carl's crimes, toting a very messy Judith along with her. "She was on the kitchen floor, sitting in applesauce and eating cookies."

He looked back at Carl, still waiting for him to explain himself. "So this is what we're doing now?" he questioned angrily. "Five minutes in a normal place, and you're acting like a jackass?"

Carl glanced at his sister, knowing that he was absolutely in the wrong for not keeping an eye on her. "I'm sorry?" he winced.

"You're goddamn right you're sorry." Rick sighed, checking his watch. "Get in there and clean up whatever mess Judy made, so I can make dinner."

"Yes, sir."

"We _will_ talk about this later," he added.

"Yes, sir."

He looked at Sasha in disbelief as he accepted Judith from her, grateful that she found her. "This is what you've signed up for, you know," he warned. His face lit up at the sight of his daughter, despite how angry he was at his son.

"If it feels half as good as the look on your face suggests, then I'm okay with that," Sasha grinned at the two of them. "Besides, it could be worse."

"That's true," he nodded, walking around the couch to examine the scene. "If we'd walked in here ten minutes later, you'd probably be peeling one of us off the floor right now."

Sasha chuckled lightly, leaning against their living room wall as she watched him walk in circles. "You had to know this was coming."

"It honestly never even occurred to me," he shook his head, running his fingers over Judith's hair. He was so relieved that she was nowhere near that point yet. "It feels like just yesterday, I was tellin' him what sex was."

"Well, you wanted normal," she reminded him. "This is what it looks like."

He smirked at her and then down at his baby. "Michonne is gonna flip out. She hates the idea of him growing up more than I do."

"Well, moms are like… that…" Sasha's sentence trailed off when both she and Rick realized that they were hearing gunshots. Two, to be precise, and they obviously didn't have a suppressor, which was a strict rule inside the gates.

Rick's first thought was that it was either an enemy at the gates, or a warning shot from Michonne in the guard tower. Maybe both. "I gotta get out there," he said in a panic, already handing over Judith. "Carl!"

He was already running in from the kitchen. "What was that?"

"I dunno," he shook his head, pulling out his Python. "Come with me. Sasha, take Judith to your house, and send Carol my way. Have Tyreese get Abraham, Rosita, Glenn, anyone we trust with a gun."

"Are you kidding," she scowled. "You can trust me with a gun!"

"Anyone who's _not_ pregnant," Rick said. He began to pull her rifle from her body, and draped it over his own. "For all I know, there's a tank sittin' out there. I'm not takin' any chances."

"Fine," she relented, already tucking Judith into her jacket.

"You ready?" Rick asked his son.

Carl nodded confidently. He was nervous, scared that they were indeed walking into another situation like The Governor, but he had learned how to ignore those kinds of thoughts. He had no time for fear. His dad needed him, and he wasn't going to fail. _Not today_ , he thought to himself. "I'm ready."

Together, Rick and Carl ran into the street, yelling for stragglers to get into their homes immediately. The majority of Alexandria wasn't prepared for battle, and Rick wasn't prepared to protect them all. As they approached the gate, Rick could see Spencer crouched down, with his gun inexplicably aimed at the steel wall. He stopped Carl in his tracks and drew his weapon.

"Get to the side," Rick whispered to him anxiously. "Stay where they can't see you."

"Who is it?" he questioned quietly.

"I don't know, but they're not friends." He pushed his son into the grass of Aaron and Eric's yard, the two of them quietly continuing toward the gate. "Don't move unless I tell you to."

Carl nodded, watching as Rick cautiously approached Spencer and pulled him back.

"What's out there?" he demanded.

Spencer shook his head nervously, obviously scared out of his mind. "Some guy. He said to open up now, or he'd start shooting," he whispered. "When I said I couldn't open up without knowing him, he shot at the wall."

Rick sighed heavily, already aware that these people couldn't be too bright if they were trying to shoot through a steel wall. He nodded and pushed Spencer in the direction of his home. "Get inside and don't come out until one of us tells you to."

Rick went on to the front of the compound and guardedly pulled open the gate, just wide enough to take in the scene outside. A bald man of large stature stood before him, smirking proudly at the fact that he'd gotten this group to open their doors so easily.

"All right, you've got my attention," Rick said, annoyed. "What do you want?"

"Word is, you've got lots of gas and lots of food in there," the stranger spoke evenly. "I want in."

"Well… that's not really how it works," he answered, eyeing him carefully. He wondered where this supposed word came from about their food and fuel. He was already tapping his gun as he continued speaking. "We don't let just anyone in here. We have questions. For starters, how many people are with you?"

"What makes you think I'm not alone? You see anyone else?"

"Even if you are… and let's not kid ourselves, I'm pretty sure you're not… I'm not gonna let you just walk in here. I need to know if you're dangerous first."

"Well, I can answer that for you. We are dangerous, and you are gonna let us just walk in there."

Rick's head cocked to the side, and his trigger finger was itching now. The only reason he hadn't shot this man yet was because he wasn't sure what the retaliation would be. "That's not gonna happen," he returned calmly.

"Let me in, or I'm not responsible for what happens to you," he said ominously.

A second later, there was a red laser beam aimed directly at Rick's chest. He looked down at it, mostly annoyed by the implication, then back up at the stranger. He nodded, understanding that this was, indeed, an attack. "All right."

"So now that I really have your attention, can I just explain what's gonna happen here?"

Rick didn't show his hand, but he could hear his people taking place on either side of him, ready for the impending battle. "Go right ahead…"

"We don't even need to stay," the man stated, smiling back at his new adversary. "We just want everything you have, and then we'll leave you to it."

"You can understand why I'm not exactly eager to let you in then."

"I do," he nodded. "But we're not good at taking no for an answer. So here it is in layman's terms. You move, my guy pulls the trigger. You don't let us in, I give the signal, my guy pulls the trigger. Anything happens to me, my guy pulls the trigger. The details vary, but the short of it is… let us in, or you die."

"Do you see anyone else who can open these gates?" Rick quipped, knowing that there were a good ten people hidden from his view. "Killing me isn't going to help you."

"I have no problem ramming my truck through your walls if that's what you really want," he said, pointing back to a vehicle obviously parked out of sight. "I wanted to make this easier on you."

"You really thought it would be as simple as coming to my home, demanding that I give up my shit?"

"It usually is," he nodded cockily. "Not sure why you're putting up such a big fight."

"Well, let's just say I've been down this road before, and I don't take kindly to bullies," Rick said, clearing his throat. He took a deep breath, and gazed up at the guard tower, where he knew Michonne was supposed to be. He said a silent prayer that she was all right, then looked back at the man intent on killing him. "You can shoot me if you want to," he said, "but I guarantee we outnumber you. And we'll come after every single one of you. So you can leave, or you can die. But you're not getting in here."

The bald guy sighed, disappointed with Rick's decision to die instead of helping him. "All right, tough guy, have it your way."

Just as he held up his hand, signaling for Rick to be taken out, there was a loud pop that permeated the air, quickly followed by a crash coming from the woods outside the gates. Rick looked down to find the laser beam was gone from his chest.

"I think my sniper got yours," he smirked back at his confused friend. He glanced to where Abraham was crouched behind the wall to his left, and on his right, Carl and Glenn were at the ready. He gave them a slight nod and aimed his gun at the stranger, shooting him in the head before he could say another word. "Fucker."

"Dad!" Carl called out to him worriedly.

Rick quickly moved to the side of the wall with his son, checking how many bullets he had left as he squatted down to join them. "Everyone okay?"

"Sasha's on her roof," Glenn informed him, still out of breath from running. "She said there were five guys perched on top of a semi-truck, less than a mile out."

Rick nodded, relieved; glad that she didn't listen to him and stay out of it. "Five should be pretty easy," he said. "You and Abraham, follow me. Carl, close this gate after us, and don't open it unless it's a voice you recognize."

"Okay," Carl nodded, already running to release it for them. "Be careful," he reminded his dad, watching the three men make a run for the woods.

In their search for their attackers, they ran into a large group of walkers headed in their direction. Thankfully, it was a manageable threat, but they knew that the gunshots would only bring more if they weren't carefully. And as the three of them fought through the ambling corpses, they heard a round of gunshots, some of them silenced, but most of them were loud bangs, causing Rick, Glenn, and Abraham to stop where they were.

"What the hell are they shooting at?" Abraham wondered, looking up in confusion.

Rick knew the only obstacle between them and the gates was the guard tower. "Michonne!" he roared desperately at the top of his lungs. He needed to hear her voice and know that she was all right. "Michonne!"

"Shut the fuck up!" she eventually yelled back, frustrated. She was trying to stealthily kill people, and he was giving her away with every shout.

The three of them ran in the direction of her voice, Rick understanding that he had likely given her position away, and she would need backup. Instead, they walked up on her hopping down from a tree, onto the top of their enemy's truck, where three bodies laid lifeless. She was stabbing their heads to keep them from reanimating, and two more bodies were on the ground, dead from headshots.

"You did all this?" Rick marveled, staring up at her work.

"No." She sighed heavily and began climbing down onto the cab, using her gun to scope out the immediate area. "There were two or three gunshots I couldn't place."

"You take out their sniper?"

"Yeah." She slowly began to smile when she realized she had saved Rick's life. "I didn't even think about it. It was a long shot, literally, but… I just… I saw him climbing up this tree, and I saw you, and I knew I had to take the shot."

Rick had to physically stop himself from smiling, too. His wife was the baddest chick alive. "You saved my life, you know."

"In fact, I do know that," she grinned. She took his proffered hand, and hopped down onto the ground with the other three men. "I didn't have a choice."

He nodded knowingly as he remembered their mantra – _We don't die._ "I guess I'm up at bat next then."

"Or you could both stop doing things to nearly get yourselves killed," Glenn suggested jokingly.

There was rustling in the trees behind them, and Rick, Abraham, and Glenn all raised their weapons instinctively. Michonne only smiled, having spotted them before she hopped down from the truck. It was Aaron and Daryl.

"I go away for two weeks and y'all still ain't learned how to make friends," Daryl declared gruffly, coming into view. He had his crossbow slung over his shoulder and was holstering a gun. "Where's Sasha?"

Michonne gave him a nod, knowing that he had been the mysterious gunshots to help her out of her battle. "She's fine," she promised, having spotted her on the roof a few minutes beforehand. "And she'll be glad as hell to see you."

"That is an understatement," Rick joked, nodding towards him as well, then to Aaron.

"You go away for two weeks, and didn't find anyone to bring in?" Abraham questioned, throwing his own rifle over his shoulder. "Pickin's must be slim out there."

"We did," Aaron said, breathing heavily, still reeling from the adrenaline of the short fight. "When we heard the gunshots, we had them stay in the car."

"Smart," Michonne said.

"Which means they're not fighters…" Glenn noted.

"Not quite," Aaron confirmed. "They were adept at taking down roamers, but they've never killed anyone before. One's a doctor. A GP, though we're not sure she actually practiced medicine before the turn," he shrugged. "And the guy is her assistant."

The four of them looked between one another relieved, considering their previous surgeon was dead, and Bob wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of delivering babies.

"That's some kinda luck," Glenn smiled, knowing Maggie would be glad to hear it as well. "Should we go get 'em?"

"I should get back inside," Rick nodded back towards the gates of Alexandria. "So everyone knows that everything's all right."

"I'll come with you," Michonne agreed. She was so thankful to have gotten through an attack unscathed, she couldn't wait to share the news.

"Umm, before you go in there," Aaron stopped them, taking a few steps into the middle of the small group. He gazed over at Daryl nervously, expecting him to join him, but had no such luck. "There's no… easy way to say this, but… there's a herd headed this way."


	10. Not Today

**10 – Not Today**

It had been three days since Aaron and Daryl had arrived home. Three days since the community found out that they were likely on the verge of an attack they wouldn't be able to ward off. So they'd had three days to prepare for it in every way possible. Collecting as much food as they could; reinforcing weak spots in the wall; gathering supplies for traps. Their traps were the ones similar to what they'd built at the prison, using spikes to thwart the walkers before they could get too close. They set as many as they could, far and near, knowing it wouldn't stop the herd, but hoped it would slow them down.

They used their days and their nights to try and take out the walkers that were approaching in smaller groups. The walking dead had never been scarce, but in just the three days, Sasha could tell that they were coming in heavier droves now. During the day, everyone used their newly learned hand-to-hand skills to get rid of them – knives, bats, crowbars, broomsticks. The group took out a fair amount during the day, but once they were ordered in for the evening, Sasha and the other sharpshooters barely had breaks at night. A steady, constant stream of walkers.

On the fourth day, Rick could feel the herd was close. He could smell them in the air. It was time to batten down the hatches. They made a plan that once the walkers got close, they would convene at Deanna's home. She had the largest house, by far, and more importantly, a basement. He and Michonne had decided it would be the best place to wait out the storm.

The scene was bleak – forty people gathered in a dark basement, scared, and not allowed to speak above a whisper. Rick was walking around with Judith, trying to check on everyone, but if he could've, he would've admitted that he was terrified out of his mind himself.

Michonne was one of five people that weren't in the room, and he hated being down there without her. Hated not knowing what was going on outside. But they all had jobs to do, and for the next three hours, hers was to sit on the roof, being a lookout. And his was to keep everyone else calm. Every now and then, he would hear the sound of her gun going off, and his breathing would quicken. He didn't know why he worried about her so much – she was better at surviving than literally anyone he knew. So with that in mind, he took a seat on the basement steps, where he could keep an eye on the group.

"You should eat," Noah said, sidling up to Rick with a plate full of fruit and a supportive smile. "My mom said so."

With an appreciative smirk, he carefully balanced Judith in his lap and accepted the plate. "Tell her I said thank you."

"She won't accept it, but I'll let her know anyway."

Rick nodded to him, before picking up an apple slice to share with his daughter. They ate in comfortable silence, Judith handing Rick all of her half-eaten, fully-slobbered-over leftovers, insisting that he hold them in his hand instead of dumping them on the empty platter. "You're real bossy for someone who can barely talk," he whispered to her jokingly.

"I'm so used to seeing her with Michonne, it's almost odd to see you two together," Jessie commented, grinning as she approached the father-daughter duo.

Rick looked up to the voice, a bit startled. "They are inseparable," he nodded politely. "She just sorta tolerates me. She's like Michonne that way."

"We both know that's not true," she chuckled, still admiring the baby. "Where is Michonne, anyway?" She did a quick look around the room to make sure she hadn't missed her. "I know she wasn't feeling too well earlier. And with all this downtime we've got, I was hoping we'd get a chance to chat."

"She's got duty on the roof," he gestured toward the ceiling. "For the next few hours."

"Of course." She shook her head, realizing what a silly question that was. Michonne didn't know the meaning of taking breaks.

"Everything all right?" Rick questioned, though he wasn't sure he could take another _thing_ at that moment.

"No, yeah, everything's fine," she quickly nodded reassuringly. "I just… I hope it doesn't sound weird. But I just… like talking to her."

"It doesn't sound weird at all," he decided, feeling the exact same way. "I'm biased of course, but I love talking to her."

"Well there's something you don't hear everyday."

"What's that?"

"A husband that loves talking to his wife," she chuckled again, a mixture of disbelief and admiration washing over her. "That's such a rarity."

"If a husband doesn't love talking to his wife, he may be married to the wrong person." Lori immediately flashed through his mind, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "But what do I know?"

"Y'know, I always thought you were the lucky one, but maybe Michonne didn't do too bad herself."

He smiled at the obvious compliment, but shook his head. "I'm definitely the lucky one."

"See what I mean?"

He laughed again, unsure of what to say now.

"So would it be okay if I went to visit Michonne on the roof, or is that a no-no?"

"I would say it's probably best to let her focus on what she's doing," he declined, looking down at Judith now. It was clear that these people still weren't taking things seriously. "She'll be back down in a couple hours."

She nodded in understanding, feeling like she'd annoyed Rick in some way. "I don't mean to be naïve. It's just hard sitting in here, everyone's all paired up," she chuckled sadly. "Even you and your daughter. I just wanted someone to talk to, without feeling like a third wheel."

Again, Rick didn't know how to respond, especially given the fact that he was the one who'd killed her plus one. Even if he was abusive, Pete was hers, and now she was alone. Free, but alone. And he had nothing in the way of comfort to offer her. Michonne really was better at such things. "I um… " he sighed uneasily. He could feel himself choking on the silence. "You can take Judith if you want. I should go and check on things upstairs anyway."

"Yeah?"

He nodded, giving Judith a quick kiss before handing her over to his neighbor. "Just give her to Carl if she starts to get on your nerves."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," she grinned, appreciatively taking the babbling toddler. She was more than thankful for the distraction. "Thank you, Rick."

"Just make sure I get her back in once piece."

"I promise."

* * *

"What time's your shift?" Daryl asked, running his fingers through Sasha's hair. She had her head in his lap, staring up at him sleepily.

"Shit, I forgot all about it," she yawned. "What time is it?"

"A, what time is it," he quietly called out to Aaron, sitting a few feet away from them.

"Quarter to midnight," he answered, glancing at his phone. "Why?"

"Just checkin'."

"Well then I'm up in fifteen minutes," she chucked as he sighed in obvious annoyance. "You had to ask."

"Yeah," he simpered, "that was stupid."

She nestled further into Daryl's lap, using his vest as a makeshift cover over her arms. "Well all right, let's not waste our last few minutes. Back to the game..."

"We finished that game."

"We finished one round," she frowned up at his silliness. She was so happy to have him back, she simply couldn't contain her smile. "So… let's see..." She looked around the large room for candidates in her query. "Let's go with... Carol, Michonne, Maggie. Pretending they're all single."

"That's fucked up," he chuckled, looking down at his girlfriend. "We ain't supposed to use people we know."

"That's not a rule."

"That's a rule where I come from."

Her eyes narrowed on him playfully. "You said you've never played before."

"Yeah, well, maybe you jogged my memory."

"Such a liar," she giggled. "Go ahead..."

"Fine," he sighed in pretend exasperation. "Fuck Carol, marry Michonne, kill Maggie." He couldn't help but scoff at the ridiculousness of it all. "You happy?"

"You'd really fuck Carol over Michonne?" she asked in disbelief. "I don't believe you."

"You ain't gotta believe me, but it's the truth."

"You're crazy."

"I might be. But I just imagine what Rick would do if I even thought about Michonne like that. It ain't a hard choice."

"I said they're all single for these purposes." She hit him on the chest, shaking her head. "And then you killed Maggie?"

"You the one that gave me those shitty ass choices."

"Well excuse me for trying to make it interesting," she joked. "Go."

"All right," he accepted, looking around the room quickly. But he already knew he would do the same thing to her that she had done to him. "Rick, Abe, Glenn."

"That's easy. Fuck Rick, marry Glenn, kill Abraham." She grinned up at him cockily. "Do better."

"Nah, wait a minute," he protested. "Feels like you thought about this before."

"I have."

"What, like specifically those three?"

"I've thought about every combination you can imagine," she nodded against him.

"So you're tellin' me that after careful consideration, you decided that you would fuck Rick."

"Yep."

"Are you fuckin' with me?" he laughed.

"Not in the least," she chuckled back. "There's a reason Michonne looks at him the way she does. And it ain't because he can cook."

"And what'd Abe ever do to you?"

"I only killed him 'cause I don't really know him like that, so he was gonna die either way. And I'd rather fuck Rick than Glenn, so that left him to marry. Basic logic."

"You ain't shit for this," he grinned down at her, resting his hand over her forehead. "But I'm glad I know now."

She smiled, glad that he got it. "Guard tower duty leaves a lot of time to think."

"I guess it does…"

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes more, taking in the dark sights and minimal sounds of those around them. Daryl hadn't even known some of those people existed before that night. It was strange to think that he would be risking his life to save them, if push came to shove. And push always managed to come to shove, it seemed.

"Hey," he mumbled to Sasha, seeing she had closed her eyes.

"I'm awake," she promised, too tired to open them and further her point.

"I added two more to the list while I was out there."

She smiled, curious as to what kind of baby names he would've thought of in his travels. "Let's hear 'em."

"What you think of Savannah for a girl?"

"I don't… hate it," she decided, though her face was scrunched in a way that said otherwise. "Savannah Dixon?"

"I like it," he shrugged.

"It's not bad."

He didn't miss the fact that she was avoiding saying she liked it, but he knew she did. "Plus, whenever you stop fuckin' around and take my name, y'all'd have the same initials."

Sasha opened her eyes, giggling quietly at his assertion. "Oh, _I'm_ the one fuckin' around? Okay."

"Well you know I'm not goin' anywhere."

"And I'm not either, so what you tryin' to say?"

"I gotta say it?" he questioned jokingly, biting at his bottom lip as he contained his smile. "For real?"

"You're the one that brought it up," she reminded him, pulling up from his lap. She knew their time was dwindling, and didn't want to rush it, so she switched the subject back to the original one at hand. "What was the other name you came up with?"

"Dakota," he smirked, eyeing her as he waited for her reaction. She just continued to get up from the floor. "You don't like nothin'," he shook his head.

"Why does it feel like you were looking at a map when you came up with these names?"

He chuckled, resting his head against the wall, looking up at her. "'Cause I was."

"I'll take Savannah, but Dakota is not going on any list of mine."

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled, holding onto her hand, not wanting her to go. "Stay safe."

* * *

Michonne was sitting in a corner of the basement with Jessie and Judith, the three of them practically asleep, when Rick came downstairs with his machete in hand. She instantly noticed that his shirt was covered in blood, and she knew things outside were no longer quiet. She popped up from her seat, while Rick went around the room, waking up some of the others.

"What's up?" she asked, feeling as though she already knew the answer.

He simply shook his head as he gathered their most skilled fighters - Carol, Tyreese, Noah, Tobin, Rosita, Tara, Aaron. He didn't want to alarm the others, but they needed to get outside, and fast. "I'll let you know when we get upstairs."

Maggie and Carl had joined their side when they saw that people were leaving. "What's goin' on?" Maggie questioned quietly.

"Just get upstairs," Rick instructed to them both. He was hesitant to send either one, but the fact was, he needed them both. He looked around the large room, making sure he hadn't missed anyone he could use. "You see anyone else in here you'd be comfortable takin' out there?" he asked Michonne.

She did a quick sweep and decided that they would have to trust some of them sooner or later. And _later_ had come. "Aiden, Spencer, Nicholas, Francine, and Reg." Rick looked at her as if she were insane, and she rested her hand on his chest. "We have to give them a chance."

"This is not the time to experiment," he warned. "You gotta be sure."

"If it's as bad as your face is telling me, we don't have much choice."

He nodded and he went to make sure that Jessie was okay handling Judith while Michonne gathered the final five recruits and they headed up the steps. Abraham came in the front door, practically covered in blood from head to toe.

"I'm not one to rush anyone, but we are up to our necks in shit out there, so if we could skedaddle..."

Rick squinted back at him, wondering when he became one not to rush anyone, but knew they had more significant matters at hand. "Have any more gotten in?" he questioned.

"In where?" Rosita demanded. "Inside?"

"Part of the wall came down," Rick finally admitted, his hands resting tiredly on his hips. "All they had to do was weaken one of those support beams and we were done for. We knew that goin' in."

"And that's why we set the traps at the support beams," Michonne knew. A frown covered her face, disappointed that that hadn't worked.

"That's the only reason all the walls haven't come down yet," Abe nodded. "But it ain't pretty out there."

"We need to go then," Maggie said, knowing only Glenn, Daryl, Bob, and Sasha were out there now. "How many are inside?"

"Not more than twenty when I left," Rick said, leading the charge outside. "But it was piling up quickly."

Indeed, it had. As they stepped out of Deanna's home, a steady stream of them went ambling by. At least thirty, by Rick's count. They needed to get to those before heading to help the others.

"All right," he sighed. "Michonne, Maggie, Tyreese, you come with me. We get in formation, take it in sections. We can knock it out pretty quickly. Everyone else, follow Abraham to the break in the gate."

The remaining thirteen followed his instructions, waiting on the porch until the four of them could distract the passing group.

"Don't let the size overwhelm you," Rick whispered as they got nearer. "We each take out seven, and we're done. Then we move on to the next. Easy as pie."

The three of them nodded in understanding, fearlessly following Rick's lead and attacking the horde with everything they had. Rick was right - a few quick slices, one down. Turn, repeat, another one down. One of them grabbed a lock of Michonne's hair, and Rick turned just in time to chop its arm off. Another was on the ground, clawing at Maggie's foot and Tyreese hammered it into oblivion. Together, they obliterated the mass of walkers in record time, and that would be the only way they got through this attack. Together.

* * *

Back inside Deanna's home, the remaining Alexandrians had continued to sit around quietly, waiting for the walker storm to pass them by. Rick had left Deanna with instructions for everyone to sit tight, so that was what they did. But none of the fighters seemed to understand that it was terrifying to be left on their own, in a hot, dark basement, with no clue if any of them would return. The noises they were hearing only made matters worse.

Jessie sat at the conference table with Judith, amongst most of the kids as they played quietly on their handheld games. Sam, however, sat near the basement door, trying to get a peek at the action. He'd spent most of his night staring at a hill of grass and a steel wall. Until, of course, he got exactly what he was hoping for. The wall had begun to split open, and he could see a hand creep into view.

He gasped lightly and turned back to the room, where everyone remained oblivious to the break. "Mom..." he said cautiously.

Jessie didn't look up from Judith as she distractedly answered him. "Yeah, baby?"

"Umm. I umm..." His breath caught in his throat as the walker's arm made its way through now. "We... I think there's a problem with the wall."

"What?" she looked up now, seeing that he had an eye on the door. She carefully rose from her chair and joined him to witness whatever he was referring to. It was dark, but there was no mistaking the fact that a roamer was attempting to break through the wall, and seemed to be succeeding. "Shit," she whispered, turning back to everyone left in the basement. A room full of kids and old people, mostly, and then Deanna. "Everyone, I need you to turn off your electronics," she said at a normal level now. "It needs to be pitch black in here."

"Jessie, what's wrong," Deanna demanded.

She took a shaky breath, realizing that she was holding a baby that wasn't hers, and she was on the verge of panicking. "I... I don't know," she stuttered. "There's a thing. There's a... The wall."

"They're getting in," Sam calmly said for her. "There's one coming in right over here."

Grace shot up from her spot on the floor to see what they were referring to, bumping into the conference table in the darkness. But as she reached the door, she could easily see the walker that had halfway made its way inside. "Lord..."

"We need to find Mr. or Mrs. Grimes," Ron said, standing at his mother's side. "We can't do anything about this on our own."

"They've got much bigger problems," Deanna said. Rick had already informed her of a large breach at the other side of the community, so she knew they couldn't fix this, too. "First thing we need to do is get upstairs."

"Are you kidding me? That's the last place we should be," Jessie hissed.

"I mean all the way upstairs, to the top level. They can't climb steps."

"Are you sure?"

She wasn't sure, but she knew that Jessie and the others wouldn't follow if she said otherwise. "What choice do we have?"

"There's one walking!" one of the younger girls cried in terror, startling everyone.

They all turned back to the glass door, where there was a straggler roaming through Deanna's backyard. And it obviously heard the young girl's scream, because it turned straight toward them.

"Okay, everybody up," Grace instructed sternly. She had little to no experience with walkers herself, but Noah had told her enough stories to know they needed to go. "Quickly and quietly."

"Where are we going?" her son Joseph questioned.

"Up," she said.

Along with Jessie and Deanna, the three women ushered the roomful of elderly and children out of the basement. In all the excitement, Judith was beginning to whimper, only making matters more tense and confusing. And as they made it to the main level, they got a full view of the fight outside. The entire street, from the Monroe house to the gates, was covered in walkers.

"Oh my," Deanna gasped. She knew it would be bad, but she hadn't prepared herself for this level of bad. To think of her husband and sons in that melee was horrifying. "They need help," she said, covering her mouth. "They must."

Jessie stopped beside her, peering out of the window worriedly, while simultaneously trying to hush Judith. "It's okay, baby girl. Your mommy and daddy are right outside."

"Her mommy and daddy could be dead, for all you know," Deanna whispered.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true. They all could be, and we're just sitting here, being utterly useless."

"So... what?" Jessie chided. "You wanna run out there and get yourself killed? Get in their way? They left us in here for a reason."

"And they took my husband and my kids," she said as if Jessie didn't already know. Deanna wiped her hands full of nervous sweat against her pants as she continued to stare at the horde moving down their block. "Someone has to tell them there's a break in the wall over here."

Jessie had to admit that Deanna was right about that, at least. Last thing they would need is a blind spot. She took a deep breath, and turned back into the dark room, trying to figure out who she could take with her if she ventured outside. With another sigh, she called for her oldest boy. "Ron, come here, sweetie."

He greeted her at the front window, with Sam following closely behind, as he often did. "Yeah, Mom?"

"I need you to be honest with me," she said, speaking quickly and quietly. "Would you be able to take down a walker if I needed you to?"

He glanced outside at the herd that he'd be faced with and looked back at her hesitantly. "I dunno, honestly. It looks easy enough from far away, but it's always way harder in training."

"I can do it," Sam chimed in, raising his hand as if he were in class. "I can help."

"Sammy, I can't let you go out there," she shook her head, looking back outside. She spotted one of their people fighting, not far from the corner. Rick or Aaron, perhaps. "I gotta get out there to warn them," she knew, already passing Judith over to Deanna.

"You can't go out there by yourself, Mom," Ron frowned. "Are you crazy?"

"He's right," Deanna agreed. "Those things will take you down in a second."

"Listen, some of them are obviously getting past them, and only god knows what's going on in your backyard. I'm not gonna let them get blindsided." She began to tighten the laces on her sneakers as she looked around for her weapon. Carol had given her a hatchet in class over a week ago, and she felt she could do some damage with it if she really needed to. "I'll be fine."

"Mom, I promise I can help," Sam insisted. "Carl taught me how to slice 'em in the knee and make 'em fall."

"If there weren't so many out there, I'd be willing to take you up on that, but I can't, baby."

"I'll go," Enid piped up from where she stood near the basement staircase. "Can't promise you won't get killed, but I promise I won't freak out, at least."

Jessie stared back at her, unsure of how to take the offer. She was the only one of them that had been on the outside for any extended amount of time. But she knew nothing more about her, or whether she was ready for such a thing. "Have you done this before?" she asked warily.

Enid shook her head. "We mostly just learned how to hide from them and avoid them," she revealed, referring to the group she had been with before. "But I don't have any plans on dying today, so I'll do whatever I have to do."

She nodded back at her, still uneasy about the idea. But she was moved by Enid's confidence, and there was no more time to waste. "All right, let's go."

"Please be careful," Ron beseeched, handing his mom her weapon. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. He always thought his mother a bit weak, considering what she allowed to happen in their home with their father, but here she was, willingly going out into the belly of the beast. He was proud of her. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Jessie gave both of her boys a quick kiss on the tops of their heads, and she and Enid headed outside. "I think I saw Rick or someone up this way," she whispered as they descended the steps. "One way or another, someone's gotta be up towards the gates."

Enid didn't respond, her eyes fixated on the herd. "We should get back to back," she said calmly. All of Carl's seemingly useless tips were suddenly rushing to her brain. "We need to be able to see in both directions."

Jessie nodded, knowing they needed to be quiet now, and the two of them quickly tiptoed through the yards to try and find a human face. Enid took down a couple of corpses by stabbing them in the knees first, and then the stake to the forehead. And Jessie took out her first walker outside of training with a hatchet straight to the brain. It instantly upped her faith in herself, and suddenly, she wasn't so scared.

As they moved further down the street, tons and tons of slain bodies were in the ground, but the throngs of walkers didn't show any signs of stopping. That was when the two of them spotted the rest of the group, in the middle of the herd, slicing and dicing their way through.

"Cool," Enid smirked, marveling at how adeptly they were handling these things.

"What?" Jessie frowned.

"They look like The Avengers," she said, almost smiling at the sight. Watching this version of her favorite comic book characters coming to life was nearly surreal.

Jessie sighed in frustration, unsure of how she would get anyone's attention this way. She looked up to the roofs and could see Sasha and Maggie, but they were both too far away. She eventually decided to just yell for help. "Rick!" she shouted. "Michonne! Abraham!"

"You're gonna get us killed!" Enid hissed at her, stepping back from the crowd.

"Son of a dick," Abraham shouted to no one in particular when he noticed Jessie and Enid standing there. "Get back in that basement!"

The two ladies had to take down another few walkers that had, indeed, come their way at the sound of Jessie's voice, but neither of them were backing down. "There's another breach!" she yelled loud enough for everyone to hear her.

Before long, Michonne had swiped her way towards Jessie, out of breath, and covered in walker blood. "What the hell are you two doing out here?" She said it as if she were worried about them, and she was, but she was more concerned with Judith, having specifically left her in Jessie's care.

"There's a breach at the wall behind Deanna's," Enid said, still calm as ever.

"Shit." Michonne shook the blood off of her sword and was already running towards the new problem as she called for her husband. "Rick!" Unsure of what else to do, Jessie and Enid followed her, while she took in the view of the street ahead. Michonne nearly stopped, discouraged by the fact that so many walkers had gotten past them, but she kept on going.

"I need you to get back there and find Glenn," Michonne told Jessie, turning and running backwards now. She felt a bit of relief when she saw Rick bringing up the rear. "Find Daryl, Abraham, I don't care who. But tell _someone_ there's a horde back near Morgan Street."

Jessie nodded nervously and ran back to do exactly as told, while Rick ran past her to catch up to Michonne.

"Where are we goin'?" he huffed, realizing he had no idea why she'd called him away.

"Breach behind Deanna's."

"This is fucking endless."

"We're getting there," she promised, sidestepping a few walkers as she headed through Deanna's yard. "It doesn't feel like it, but it's thinning out."

It appeared that she might have spoken too soon. When they reached the Monroe's backyard, they found another thirty walkers waiting for them. And more were climbing through the gap in the wall every ten seconds. Michonne took a deep breath, looked at her sword, and then at Rick. "You ready?"

Rick could feel the exhaustion in every ounce of his body, willing him to just stop, screaming for him to take a seat, just rest. He'd been going for three days straight, and he wasn't sure how much he had left. But as Michonne looked at him, her eyes saying what her mouth hadn't – _we can do this_ – he nodded. He nodded at her, then up at the sky, then back to the walkers coming towards them.

This was what they meant when they said to one another, _We don't die_. The rest of the phrase was unspoken, but it essentially finished with, _We fight_. Because that was what they did. And that was exactly who they were, through and through. They fought, hard and dirty, through pounding headaches and stomach cramps, through aching joints and bleeding knuckles. They would fight now, and they would win. Because dying wasn't an option. Not today. "I am."

* * *

 **A/N:** Well. There we go. I'm sorry if that was rough reading, because it was definitely a bit difficult to write. But I definitely wanted to have the herd come through and show the strengths of the group right now. (And why they might be feeling themselves a little too much in the future. Hmmm.) But hey! We're through it, and I think the next few chapters are more my speed. I'm excited to get back to talking and baby making for a bit, haha. – Ash


	11. It's A New Dawn, It's A New Day

**11 – It's A New Dawn, It's A New Day, It's A New Life For Me**

The next morning came, and Alexandria had lived to see another day. Not a single casualty to report, and only a few minor injuries being taken care of by Bob, and the new resident doctor, Denise. Even with some of their walls destroyed, spirits at the Safe Zone were high as cleanup went underway.

By around noon, Rick found himself walking up the street towards his home, planning to check up on Michonne. She hadn't been feeling well for most of the night, and still miraculously managed to fight her way through it, but she had gone home to finally rest for a couple of hours. He caught her just as she was coming out of the house, obviously having showered and changed clothes, with a small smile on her face.

"You all right?" he called out to her, squinting past the late morning sun to take her in.

"Much better," she nodded, making her way towards where he stood in the middle of the street. "I think the stench of those walkers was just... getting to me."

"And you're sure you're not pregnant?" he asked, somewhat jokingly. "'Cause you've sure as hell got a lotta new problems if you aren't."

She smiled back at him, having thought the same. "After last night, I'm really starting to think so," she admitted. "I'm honestly surprised I didn't throw up on you."

The two of them started back towards the group cleanup as he shook his head at the disgusting thought. "Thank you for not doing that."

"It took everything I had."

He grinned at that, as it reminded him that she was the strongest person he knew. Which was saying a lot. "You're a diamond," he declared, tenderly caressing the back of her neck as they walked. "Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you're fighting?"

"I don't think you have," she decided after careful contemplation. "That's what does it for you, huh?"

"Well, let's be clear, you could be sitting on the couch wearin' a muumuu and it'd get me goin'."

She laughed heartily – one of those laughs that showed all her teeth – as she glanced over to her husband. "You're ridiculous."

"Never claimed otherwise," he smiled, glad he could make her laugh like that.

"How's it looking out here?" she asked him, referring to the cleanup now.

He shook his head dismally. "It's still a mess. Inside looks better, but the whole outside is fucked. Must be five hundred of those things."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," he agreed. "And now we're severely low on ammo, so..."

"You think we oughta send Glenn and his crew out?"

"And I'm thinkin' I should go with 'em."

She looked at him worriedly now. He had been going nonstop for four days, and looked like death personified because of it. She wanted nothing more than to give him a break. "I can go," she offered.

He planted an appreciative kiss to the side of her lips as they started to approach the gates. "I'm good," he promised.

"Well you should at least go home and get a shower," she said. "Wash some of last night off of you. Maybe take a nap."

"Unless you're plannin' on joinin' me, I think I'm all right," he smirked.

She suppressed a giggle, but discreetly gave his ass a quick smack as they walked. "Behave."

"What's the fun in that?" He leaned down to whisper in her ear just before they could reach ears that would hear them. "I'm having you for lunch before I go."

Michonne's eyes widened in amusement, and she tried not to give herself away, but she was so turned on. She began to walk a little slower, already feeling her nether regions reacting to Rick's words. She loved and hated the way he would say things like that, and then disappear as though he'd said nothing at all.

Amidst her squirming, Rick called Glenn over, ready to get back to business. "I need you to get your three best people," he told him seriously. "We're gonna go into Washington and see what we can find in the way of ammo."

Daryl heard his mission, and immediately offered his services as well. "I'll go," he declared without even thinking. "Just need two more now."

Rick gave him a nod of acknowledgement and thanks, so Sasha was the one to protest. She dropped the beams she had been collecting and turned to the small group with a frown. "But you just got here."

"And I'll be back," he tried to say comfortingly. "It's just a couple days, right, Rick?"

"Three, I'd say," he nodded. "I'm gonna have Abraham see what they can rustle up in terms of supplies. So it shouldn't be too long at all."

"Yeah, I suppose when you're out _there_ , it goes by just like that," she snapped. With a heavy sigh, she removed her rifle from her body, and passed it to Rick. "I'll be back later."

"Where you goin'?" Daryl asked, confused by her anger over something so minor.

"To take a shit and a nap," she quipped in frustration.

"So you want me to stay or not, Sash?"

She had already turned away from them as she rolled her eyes at him. She wasn't going to be the one to tell him to stay when he clearly wanted to leave. "Just keep doing whatever the hell you want!"

* * *

"God, you are too good at that," Michonne sighed in delight as she pulled up her panties, followed quickly by her jeans. "I mean, entirely too good."

Rick stood from his knees, pleased with himself and the fact that he always managed to satisfy her. He licked his lips of her, and wiped the sheen of sweat that had formed on her forehead as he bent over to give her a quick kiss. "Nothin' better than knowing you're good at something you enjoy doin'."

She smiled up at him, unsure if she could pull herself up. They had snuck to the steps of the guard tower, where it was dark, and cool, and she didn't want to leave. She didn't want him to leave either. "Remind me that it's only three days," she pouted.

"It's only three days, Sasha," he said jokingly. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Don't make fun of her," she said, holding onto his hand.

"I'm not. I'm making fun of you."

She squeezed his hand now, and roughly pulled him back down for her goodbye kiss. She planted a long one on him, slow and hard, knowing it was all she would get for three days. Their tongues intertwined and she could taste herself on him. She loved knowing that she was the last thing he had to eat before leaving. "Be careful out there," she said as they pulled apart.

Rick had gotten so caught up in the kiss, and the fact that he was straddling her against the stairs, he forgot he was supposed to be leaving. They were in perfect position for a quick fuck, and he wanted to finish what he had started now. "Let's just..."

"Rick, we're all waiting on you," said a knock at the door that sounded like Glenn.

"Fuck," he muttered, finishing his sentence in a different context now. "You think we can do it in under a minute?" he joked to his wife.

"I think you should go," she smirked, giving him one last peck. "I love you a lot."

"I love you back," he said, rising from the staircase again. He would have to find a way to talk his erection down on the way to the car. "I'm coming," he told Glenn. "Just gimme a minute."

"We're in the van," he said, then added, "Bye, Michonne."

She giggled softly as she responded, "Bye, Glenn!"

Together, the two of them straightened themselves up and exited the guard tower to find several of their fellow residents standing there waiting. "All right, all right," Rick nodded knowingly. "Nothin' to see here."

"Not so sure that's true," Tara joked, hanging out of the van window. "For the record, I told Glenn I was fine with waiting."

"I was, too," Noah chimed in with a smile, popping his head out as well.

Michonne moved toward the running vehicle and pushed both of their faces out of the way so that she could peek inside. "Listen, guys. Rick hasn't slept in days, so do me a favor and make sure you watch his back? He might need you more than you need him on this one."

"Of course," Tara nodded seriously.

Glenn gave her a reassuring nod just as Daryl entered the back of the van. "You know I will," he promised.

Daryl silently continued to the front seat with a scowl on his face that Michonne didn't miss. "You could've just told me I was in your way," she said, referring to the passenger door.

He simply glared at her.

"You all right?" she asked, sounding more and more like Rick every day, she realized.

He just nodded as he put his crossbow on the floor in front of him.

She knew that pressing him on the issue would be useless, and Rick was hopping into the driver's seat, so they were officially leaving. She would have to let Daryl figure this one out on his own. "You guys be safe," she said, gazing at Rick now.

"You, too," he responded for them all.

With that, they were off.

* * *

"The guys and Tara are gone," Michonne announced, finding Sasha sitting on her front porch. She had come to visit and make sure Sasha was okay, only to find that she looked angrier than ever. "Was surprised not to see you out there," she prodded.

"I'm sick of saying goodbye," Sasha mumbled, the scowl on her face not softening. "If he's fine with leaving, I'm fine with not seeing him off."

"Sasha..."

"I don't need a lecture, Michonne. Not today."

"I'm just worried about you," she admitted. She tentatively moved up the steps of her balcony and took position against the front railing, just across from her friend. "I know you know why he's leaving."

She cut her eyes at Michonne, her eyebrows quirked. "I do?"

"He's helping to protect us. That's the way that he knows how to be there. That's how he cares for you, your baby..."

"Are you kidding me? He doesn't have to _leave_ to do that! Do you see those walls?"

"Please don't yell at me," Michonne said calmly. "I understand that it's hard to do this alone-."

"No, I don't think you do," she cut her off. "Not if you're just fine letting Rick walk outta here repeatedly, when you have no clue whether he'll be back."

"He will," she retorted, almost offended that she would imply otherwise. "Rick always comes back. And so does Daryl." She paused when Sasha indignantly sat back in her seat. "After everything we've been through, why are you losing hope now?"

Her leg began to shake as she thought about the answer to that question. "You aren't scared?" she asked, her voice nearly cracking. "This doesn't all seem too good to be true?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean all of this? How are all of you not terrified that it's gonna be snatched away from us at any minute? How can they keep tempting fate, going outside those walls? And how are you okay with it?"

Michonne's expression immediately softened when she realized just how afraid Sasha was. This wasn't anger talking. It was fear. She took a seat next to her with a long exhale, unsure of how to talk her down from this. "I'm not terrified because I can't be," she answered honestly. "I cannot live my life in fear. Do I consider that Rick's gonna walk out those gates one day and not come back? Of course," she admitted. "And you know, there was a moment when I was fighting Pete that I wasn't sure. I really didn't know whether I would make it out alive. But I couldn't let that stop me. I can't let fear paralyze me. Because if I do that, then I'd might as well be dead anyway."

Sasha shook her head. She could understand her words, but she couldn't make them true for herself. She couldn't make them make sense. "I know we agreed to him taking this job as a recruiter, but I didn't realize how lonely it would be without him. How sad and scared I would be."

"You're not used to it," Michonne understood. "And it's hard to process things we don't understand. But he's out there doing what he needs to do."

"And I just have to deal with it," she scoffed, even if she knew that it was true.

"I wish you wouldn't let his absence eclipse you and your growth here," Michonne said. "Just because he's gone for a while doesn't mean that you can't live a life here. You're too strong for this, Sasha. You're smart, you're a survivor. You're an _excellent_ sharpshooter, you're an excellent teacher. You're gonna be a mother," she reminded her softly. "Yes. Daryl is wonderful, and… maybe even the best thing that's ever happened to you. But he is not the sun."

Sasha glanced over to her, still both sad and angry, and now on the verge of being offended. "How would you feel if I said that about Rick?"

"I would agree with you," she smiled at her warmly. "I learned it back in Atlanta, and I'm glad I did. Rick is my everything else, but he is not the sun," Michonne shook her head. "I am."

She sat back in her chair, running her fingers across her slowly growing belly as she stared out to the street. "I don't like feeling like this," she replied sincerely. "I know I'm not there yet. But I hope I get there one day."

Michonne gave her friend's thigh a soft pat, hating to leave her, but knowing she needed to get back to work. "You will," she promised, looking her in the eye. "If for no other reason than you have no choice."

* * *

Outside the walls, the run crew was taking its back roads route towards the city, and the ride had been quiet, to say the least. Glenn, Tara, Noah, and Aiden had fallen asleep, to no one's surprise, given how exhausting the previous days had been. But Daryl sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the roads, which left Rick a bit worried. He kept glancing over at him, waiting for him to either say something or doze off, but he seemed to be refusing to let himself go.

"You all right?" Rick questioned him hoarsely. He was so worn out, his voice was leaving him, too.

"I'm all right," Daryl nodded back at him in a mumble. "Just tired."

"You can sleep if you want. I don't need company." Not that Daryl was especially good company in that moment anyway.

"How long we got?"

"Couple hours, at least," he shrugged, turning down another road as he peered at their map.

"I'm good."

He glanced over at him again, noticing that his expression refused to change. "Sasha wasn't too happy about you coming out here," Rick commented, hoping to get him talking.

"She'll be all right," he said, biting at his thumb nail now. "She ain't never been good at people leavin' her. Told me she cried for three days straight when Michael Jackson died."

Rick did his best not to laugh at that. "Still, you know you didn't have to come out here, right?"

"I know."

"So why'd you insist on comin'?" he pressed. "Knowing how Sasha felt, and you didn't have to leave."

"We got a baby on the way," he said to Rick as if he didn't know. "Ain't got time to be sittin' around at home with her. Gotta protect this place."

"But that is what it is, right," Rick asked. "Home?"

Daryl nodded confidently as he looked over to his friend. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

"Well I'm not so sure she knows that, so... when we get back, you, me, and Aaron will have to talk about sticking around for a bit. Maybe I'll be a recruiter for a while. Or maybe we don't need to add anyone else to the group right now. Not 'til we expand, anyway."

"Maybe so," he mumbled back, somewhat hopeful about the idea. He hated leaving Sasha just as much as she did, but he wasn't going to just abandon his post. "Shoulda known you'd come in and take over the place."

Rick chuckled. "It was mostly Michonne."

"Well it makes a hell of a lot more sense than Deanna."

"She tried," he answered in a lame attempt at being diplomatic about her. "I dunno that we would've done much better if we hadn't been out here."

"What you think she would've done with that herd last night?"

He shuddered to think. "I think a lotta people would be dead right now."

Daryl nodded again, resting his elbow in the window, biting at his bottom lip. "Guess it's a good thing y'all are in charge then."

* * *

It felt like the end of the day would never come, but finally, it had, and Michonne was winding down with the kids and a nice dinner at home. After four days of dealing with walkers, it was literally all she wanted to do. But she had one last task before she could completely call it a day.

"Carl watch your sister," she announced from the stove, where she was turning off her spaghetti sauce and washing her hands. "I'll be back in five minutes."

He was distractedly watching a movie, replying with an oblivious, "Okay."

Michonne had a feeling he hadn't heard her, but was too anxious to confirm, quickly making her way up the stairs. She was already pulling a pregnancy test she'd gotten from Maggie from her back pocket, ripping open the package as she made it into her room. She had chugged two glasses of water over thirty minutes prior, and she literally couldn't wait any longer.

She'd waited all day to take the test, not wanting to ruin her mood if the results weren't what she wanted. And that was after suppressing the entire idea when she thought her period had come on. But the symptoms only seemed to be getting stronger and more prevalent. It couldn't have all been in her head, she knew. Or she hoped. But it was time to find out once and for all.

With all these thoughts running rampant, she nervously sat down on the toilet to take the test. It would only take a few seconds, and then another few minutes, but time seemed to be moving in slow motion. She washed her hands and placed the test stick on the sink, then took a seat on the ledge of the bathtub. It was too nerve-wracking to stand over it, watching. Waiting.

She wished Rick were there. He would've distracted her with some silly question, or perhaps some gossip about the other Alexandrians. He was good at that. But instead, it was just her and her thoughts about how sad she would be if she ended up not being pregnant. Again. It was a silly thing to think, considering they had only been actively trying for a few weeks. Reality was, it could be another month before anything showed up on a test.

With a long exhale, Michonne hopped up from her seat and padded across the bathroom back to the sink, peering cautiously at the indicator stick. Two vertical pink lines were staring back at her. One was fainter than the other, but there was no mistaking that it was there.

Still, she immediately stooped down to the counter, trying to get a better look at the results. She imagined that she had to be seeing things, maybe misreading the instructions, but tears had already flooded her face, knowing that what she was seeing was real. She was pregnant. All those symptoms weren't some strange phantom pregnancy. There was an actual baby in there. Hers. With Rick. It was all happening.

She turned and sat on the floor with a happy sigh, leaning against the counter as she held the test in her hand. She couldn't contain her smile. "Fuck, I wish you were here, Grimes," she whispered gleefully. After everything she had been through, all the fighting she had done, it was almost hard to believe that a life was still hanging on. And she kept in mind that she was likely still in a danger zone, but maybe... hopefully, her miracle baby was still with her. "Wow," she said to herself.

Michonne didn't get much time to bask in her feelings, as the sound of Judith crying erupted into her thoughts, which was only appropriate, reminding her of just what she was so happy about. She quickly wiped her face and pulled up from the bathroom floor, leaving the test on the sink before fleeing for the toddler. She found her toward the bottom of the steps, looking up at her like a lost puppy.

"What's wrong, Cutie?" She tried not to laugh at the fact that it appeared she had gotten stuck, either unable or unwilling to make the trip up the steps without help.

Carl made his way to his sister just as Michonne reached the foot of the stairs to pick up Judith. "What happened?" he questioned.

"I should be asking you that," Michonne said, practically glaring at him. "Go wash your hands for dinner."

He disappeared to do as told, while Judith snuggled into Michonne's neck, her crying having dissipated into small whimpers. The two of them headed for the kitchen, where Michonne began to fill a large bowl with the spaghetti, then stirred the sauce, preparing to bring both to the table. She did it all singlehanded, not letting go of Judith as she moved swiftly across the kitchen. "Your brother is losing his mind," she whispered to the baby. "You'll have to forgive him."

"I'm not," he said, returning to the kitchen just in time to hear her. He grabbed plates and silverware while Michonne handled the spaghetti. "I was just distracted for a minute."

"A minute is all it takes," she answered, still not amused that he'd let his sister wander off. "Another minute and she could be falling down the stairs."

"I didn't think about it that way. I'm not used to her walking around, I guess."

"I suppose that's why you thought you could make out with Enid instead of babysit," she shot back, sitting Judy in her high chair. "Not cool, by the way."

"I can't believe he told you that," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Can you really not believe that? Really?"

"I mean, I just thought, with everything happening with those guys that showed up, and then the herd, he wouldn't have time to rat me out."

"Well you thought wrong," she smirked. She pulled her chair close to Judith so that she could feed her, while Carl filled a plate with food for the two of them. "I'm not gonna lecture you, because your father wants that honor," she joked. "But please, for the love of god, tell me it was nothing more than kissing."

He looked up at her in confusion, wondering if she was implying what he thought she was implying. "What?"

"I just... if you think it would've escalated past that if your dad hadn't come home, just let me know. So I can lock you in your room for the next ten years."

"You don't mean sex, do you?" Carl asked, scrunching his face.

"That's precisely what I mean. Don't you dare try to act innocent now," she said, eyeing him.

"I'm not, I just... never even considered that," he answered genuinely. "Like, that's for adults, and I'm a hundred percent clear on that."

She closed her eyes, sighing in relief at his maturity. "I hope you're not just saying that."

"No, I'm quite all right with leaving that to you and my dad."

"Dude." She looked up at him in shock and amusement and threw a few strings of plain spaghetti at him. "You better watch it."

"I'm just saying..."

"Yeah, I heard what you said," she smiled so he would know she wasn't that offended by it, then turned to Judith to start feeding her. There was a long, comfortable silence while the three of them devoured their dinner. But Michonne was bursting to tell her news to someone, and she figured Carl and Judith were the perfect targets. "So listen," she started, already trying to contain her smile.

Carl looked up at her, his blue eyes curious as ever when he saw the happiness on her face. "I'm listening."

She held out her pinky to him, signaling that this was information to go into their circle of trust, and looked him in the eye. "You don't breathe a word of this to anyone until your father gets back..."

"Got it," he promised, locking his pinky with hers.

She let her smile overtake her entire face as she gazed at him and then at Judy. "I'm pregnant."

Carl's eyes widened in shock, and he grinned back at her and his sister. "Are you serious?"

"I'm pretty sure," she nodded. She didn't want to add that they would have to see if miracle baby made it through the previous night's fight. "It's still early," she allowed. "We're not out of the woods for another few weeks, I imagine, but..."

"But you took one of those tests and everything?"

"Yes, Carl, I didn't just listen to the wind."

He watched her take a bite of food, and he could see the contentment washing over her. He could feel it in himself, even. Nothing like when his mom had gotten pregnant with Judith and everyone looked utterly lost. He was so glad those days were gone. "You look happy," he noted, grateful to be able to say that. So much of his life had changed for the better, he realized. "That's awesome."

"It is awesome," she acknowledged. "This was what we said we wanted when we left for Washington."

"I remember," he grinned.

"And it's coming true."

"It's all happening!" he joked, imitating a character from one of the many favorite movies they shared, Almost Famous. "It's all happening!"

The two of them laughed, and Judith joined in with a mouth full of pasta threatening to spill out and no clue of what was so funny. Michonne was grinning from ear, absolutely ecstatic that this was her life now. To think of where she had been two months ago, captured and being tortured at Grady. And now, she was sitting in her home, with her family, eating family dinner. She didn't know how she had managed to get so lucky. Rick always claimed that he was the lucky one, but somehow, after all her bumps and bruises, she was walking away unscathed. She was happy. And maybe Sasha was right – maybe it was too good to be true. But she would enjoy every second of it while she could.

* * *

 **A/N:** Shout out to everyone that called Michonne still being pregnant. I was kind of a troll with that, I'll admit. LOL. But I promise it'll stick. And also? I loved the fact that you guys wanted Jessie to be okay. My job here is done! THANKS, as always, you guys! -Ash


End file.
